Fortnights
by KnightMysterio
Summary: An anthology of separate, but connected stories all set in the universe of Fortnite: Battle Royale. Each one will focus on specific groups of characters, telling their stories, and will cover many genres. The first chapter focuses on the Getaway Gang, an infamous pair of master thieves.
1. Getting Away With It

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 1: Getting Away With It**_

_**by Jonathan "KnightMysterio" Spires**_

All characters copyrighted to their original owners. If you like what you see, please support me o , or o with one-time donation! Every little bit helps me pay the bills!

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A bank…

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The bank was the most ritzy one in the city. It was also one of the few to contain actual money, a rarity in this age of digital transactions. To the two master thieves about to rob the place, it was the perfect target.

It was a well-planned heist. The manager, who had all the codes and keys to the vault, was in today. Security would be mid-shift transition, so things would be disorganized. There were no magnetic locks, which was their greatest fear as thieves (other than getting caught), so there would be no problem with completing the heist. They'd already disabled most of the alarms, including the fire alarms.

Now if they could only stop making out long enough to complete the heist.

"Sir? Ma'am?" the thoroughly amused bank worker said to the couple on the bench currently attempting to devour each other's faces, each one with a hand in an inappropriate area.

The man, a handsome, pale-skinned man with short brown hair, clad in bluejeans and a t-shirt, looked up, smiling pleasantly. "Mmmyes?"

"We were kind of in the middle of something," said the woman in his lap, a curvy, short-haired redhead with dark skin, clad in a miniskirt and crop top.

"That's the issue, sir and ma'am," the bank worker said apologetically, a smile on her face. "While we're not against couples enjoying each other's company, we have to draw the line at having sex in the lobby."

"You don't know we were going to do that," the woman protested.

"...Ma'am, your hand is on his crotch and you were undoing his pants when I came up to you," the bank worker said.

"Really now?" the man said, looking down. "Naughty naughty, dear. I may just have to punish you when we get home."

"That a promise?" the woman said, smirking as she re-fastened his pants.

The bank worker chuckled. "Yes. Well, I hate to sound like a bother," she said, "but if you aren't making a transaction, I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"That's fine," the man said. "We are making a withdrawal, however we do require use of your spacious restroom facilities first."

The bank worker nodded. "That's perfectly fine," she said. As the two lovers stood up, the bank worker whispered to them in a conspiratorial fashion, she added, "The handicapped stall in the men's room is out of order. Perfect place to 'finish what you started.'"

The woman grinned. "I like you," she said. The bank worker giggled, trotting off. "I like her, my love."

The man chuckled. "We'll have to be kind to her once we're working," he said. "Shall we?" The two of them went to the bathroom, heading into the men's room. Indeed, there was a large, hand-printed sign saying that the stall was out of order. They had placed it there themselves last night, hiding their 'work clothes.' They wiped the makeup off of their faces, their features becoming less light and more aquiline, and rinsed the coloring out of their hair. They both stripped down to their underwear, removing wallets and keys from their pockets, and tossed their disguises, clothing they got from a Goodwill that morning, in the sink. They set their disguises on fire and dressed in their actual clothes.

The woman put on a black full body stocking, one that covered her head, but still allowed her to see and easily breath through it. She put on a red and white dress that had sleeves and a hoodie, a black equipment belt, a black, bullet-proof vest, thigh length black boots and elbow-length black gloves. She donned a mask which hid her face further, white with black highlights, pulling her hood up over her head.

The man put on a black full body stocking as well, along with a white business suit. He put on black gloves, black shoes, and pulled out a white mask. Four of them, to be precise, each one bearing the symbol of a card suit. After a moment's consideration, he put on the mask with the red diamonds symbol.

As a last flair, both of them put on a stylish tie, black for the male, white for the female.

"Fabulous as always, Wild Card," the woman said.

"And you as well, my dear Ace," the man said, kissing her hand through his mask. From the bag that held their clothes, they pulled out six more items – a pair of long crowbars, two silenced pistols, a SPAS-12 shotgun, and a Thompson submachine gun. "Well then. To work," Wild Card said, he and Ace clinking their crowbars together in a toast. They holstered their crowbars on their backs, Ace brandishing the shotgun, Wild Card taking the tommy gun.

Thunder rumbled, and the sound of rain began to fill the bathroom.

"Odd," Ace said. "Wasn't expecting a storm today..."

"It shouldn't affect the plan," Wild Card said. "Let's move on, shall we?"

Ace nodded, but she still felt uneasy. "To work."

The two kicked open the bathroom door, Wild Card firing the tommy gun into the air. "Ladies, gentlemen, and bank employees! As you may have guessed, this is a heist! As neither of us want a murder rap on our records and none of you want to be murdered, I suggest you all GET ON THE FLOOR NOW!"

The crowd, panicking, did as they asked. Some tried to run, and the guards tried to bring their own guns to bear, but Ace and Wild Card were ready for them, taking advantage of their disorganized state due to the shift change. Ace pulled out her pistol and shot the guards guns out of their hands. Wild Card did the same, shooting the people who ran in the legs before they could escape. Ace immediately went over to claim the guns of the guards, keeping her shotgun trained on them.

"Excellent work, my dear," Wild Card said. "Now. Before we relieve this fine establishment of its valuables, I believe that the people I shot need treatment. Dr. Anthony Weller, I believe you were planning to visit the bank today?"

An older man looked up, alarmed. "How did you-" he started.

"We're the Getaway Gang," Ace said, moving over to the tellers after claiming the guards guns and tying them up with zipties. "We get away with everything because we plan to the smallest detail."

"Including knowing when a physician who specializes in gunshot wounds would be visiting the place we might need to shoot bullets in," Wild Card said, holding out his hand. Ace tossed him a medical kit from her gear pouch, and gave it to the doctor. "Here you go, sir. Take care of those poor unfortunates."

The doctor, reluctantly, went to work, while Ace went up to the bank tellers, smirking beneath her mask. She put a large back bag on the table, the bag which held their gear earlier. "Fill it up, please. As much money as you can, in LARGE denominations only."

The teller, a scared young man with the front of his pants visibly darkening from piss, "W-we don't have that much money..."

"You also have a large cache, so to speak, of rare American dollar bills, a currency that hasn't been in circulation since Vbucks became the global standard," Wild Card said. "We get them to our buyer, we get an even bigger payout."

Ace pressed her shotgun into the teller's face, climbing over the till. "So if you please… fill 'er up."

The teller whimpered. "I don't even have the authority to access the main vault. I just started working here today!"

"...Wow, okay, I actually feel bad for you now," Ace said sincerely, managing to look sympathetic despite her face-concealing mask. "I'm not going to let you go, but I am going to make you get someone who can open the vault."

"And do make haste," Wild Card said. "We're on something of a clock here."

"And before any of you decide to get cute," Ace said, "I severed the phone and alarm lines before we even entered the building."

Another teller, who had been pressing a button under her desk with increasing panic, whimpered, raised her hands into view in a gesture of surrender.

"Isn't she great, folks?" Wild Card said adoringly. "There's a reason she's the Ace of this team."

"Yes, yes, I'm brilliant. Now come on," Ace said, gesturing to the teller she had prisoner. "To the manager's office."

The teller, crying with fear, led him to the manager's office. As the two of them tried to leave, the teller filling the bag Ace had given her tried to put a paint pack in the bag with the Vbucks. A bullet whizzed past her ear.

"I'd rather you didn't," Wild Card said. "We wish to spend the money we'd get from that."

The clerk whimpered.

Meanwhile, Ace led her prisoner to the bank's main office. She shoved him aside and kicked open the door. Inside the man at the desk yelped.

"...That was supposed to be a security door," the bearded man muttered, frozen in the act of putting American dollar bills into a briefcase rigged with handcuffs.

"It was. I've simply encountered them so many times that I know all their weak spots," Ace said. "Planning on leaving?" She shoved the clerk forward and aimed her shotgun at them both. "It wouldn't be through that private security door in your office, would it? The one triggered by the fake book marked 'Greed?' Very Addams Family, by the way. I like it."

The bank manager look startled. "H-How did you..."

"I don't call myself Ace because it sounds cool," Ace said. "I call myself Ace because I'm the BEST, and only Wild Card is my equal. Now if you please, finish loading that money into the briefcase. Then we're going to take a trip to the vault."

"...And if I don't cooperate?" the bank manager said defiantly.

Ace pulled out her pistol and shot him in the foot. It was a non-fatal wound, but it hurt like hell, the bank manager groaning in agony, falling to the ground as he clutched the bleeding wound. "There's a doctor out in the lobby. Give me the code to the vault, and Skippy Longstockings here can take you to him."

The bank manager glared at her. "Damn you..."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Ace said. "Heard it all before. Now, the code, if you please," she said.

The bank manager glared at the masked woman a long moment, and then sighed, shaking his head. He had the clerk write it down, Ace leading the two of them back into the main lobby. True to her word, she let the bank manager go to the doctor. "Got us a present, Wild Card!" she said, holding up the cuffed briefcase. "Scumbag here was already shoving some extra of what we came for in here!"

"Excellent work, my dear! Now, shall we head to the vault?" Wild Card said.

"All yours, my love," Ace said, giving him the code. "I'll take over watching the plebs."

"I leave them to your care, dearest Ace," Wild Card said, heading for the main vault, grabbing the bag of money from the teller that had filled it. He went up to the large, wheel-locked door, entering the security code and unlocking it. It had been pathetically easy to get the measure of the building's security. He pulled open the door, and smiled, seeing his treasures right in a lockbox at the very end of the vault. Jamming his crowbar into it, he tore it open with a yank, revealing several large stacks of ten-thousand dollar bills. No longer in circulation, these would fetch a great price on the open market.

"Marvelous," Wild Card said, stuffing the stacks into the bag. He ran out to join Ace, tossing her the duffel bag of money, while she gave him the cuffed case. Mounting their prizes on their backs, the two of them turned to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Wild Card said, bowing dramatically, "we hope you have enjoyed this show."

"You've been graced with a rare opportunity to see the greatest thieves in the world in action!" Ace said.

Wild Card pulled out one of their calling cards from his pocket, the card bearing a black and red circle with all four card suit symbols in it in white, and set it down on a nearby table. "We wish you well and say God bless you on this fine day!"

"Farewell, everyone! Enjoy the fact that you have been visited by the Getaway Gang on this beautiful Fall day!" Ace said, she and Wild Card laughing as they exited the bank.

Silence reigned as the hostages waited to see if they were still in danger. Once it seemed that the criminals weren't coming back, they began to pick themselves up. They muttered among themselves, trying to figure out what happened, freeing the guards who had been tied up. People with cell phones began to call the police.

Moments after the people began to dial, Wild Card and Ace, looking visibly terrified through their masks, ran into the bank again. They immediately slammed the doors behind them, and ran to get chairs to barricade the doors.

"Do you think it will be enough?!" Ace asked frantically.

"God, I don't know," Wild Card said, visibly shaking. "Those… those THINGS they just..."

"Excuse me," said a VERY angry voice. Wild Card and Ace slowly turned, seeing the furious bank patrons glaring at them all.

"...Ah," Wild Card said after a moment.

"Oh dear," Ace said. "Rock and a hard place..."

The guards came up through the crowd, truncheons at the ready. "You shouldn't have come back."

Wild Card took a moment to compose himself, putting a hand to his mouth and coughing into it. "Well… You see, gentlemen, my partner and I found ourselves in a bit of a conundrum. For when we exited your fine financial establishment, we encountered a problem for which we were unprepared."

"Which was?" one guard asked.

"The zombie apocalypse," Wild Card and Ace said in unison. "I realize how this sounds," Wild Card admitted.

"It sounds fuckin' crazy," the lead guard said.

"You're not holding the people hostage again, Wild Card!" said another guard.

"Hostage? Why, we wouldn't dream of it," Wild Card said, moving the chairs away from the door, looking at Ace pointedly.

She immediately got what her partner meant. "No, no, please feel free to leave." She opened the door for the guards, motioning for them to go outside.

"..." the lead guard glared at the two thieves suspiciously. "You, you, and you, come with me. The rest of you, keep an eye on these bastards. If they go for their guns, dogpile them."

The guards saluted, the chosen guards following the lead guard out of the door of the mostly soundproofed bank… and into Hell.

Above them all, a great storm ranged, purple clouds rippling like ocean waves as purple lightning rained down. Monsters roamed the streets, people screaming as they were beaten to death or eaten alive by the humanoid abominations lumbering around, thunder and wind mostly drowning out the sound of screaming. Hulking brutes smashed cars, while the vast majority of the creatures, rail-thin humanoids with glowing auras inside their skulls, their faces hanging on the back of their necks like hoods, stalked about.

Before the terrified eyes of the guards, a woman who had been crushed by a hug from the hulking monster slowly staggered to her feet, gripped the sides of her mouth, and pulled her face off over her skull like a hood, revealing a glowing-eyed skull.

The guards ran back inside, barricading the doors again.

"Everyone… Something very bad is happening outside," the lead guard said. "For the time being, we're all going to have to cooperate. Go to every entrance and shove as much as you can from it. I want all ways in and out of the building blocked off."

"What's going out there, captain?" asked one of the female guards.

"Exactly what they said," the lead guard said. "GO!"

Worried, the guards did as they were told. The lead guard turned to Wild Card and Ace. "Can we count on your help?"

"We are criminals, and have a strong self-interested streak, but we are not callous," Wild Card said.

"Whatever we can do to help, we're in," Ace said.

The lead guard nodded. "Good. Watch the windows. We'll get our people armed and set them all around the lobby," he said. He then turned to the people in the lobby. "Everyone! If you'll all gather together and get ready to go into the vault? It's heavily armored, can be opened from the inside, and should be able to protect everyone."

"From WHAT?!" the bank manager demanded, limping over to the lead guard.

"From the monsters outside," the lead guard said.

The bank manager scoffed. "You can't seriously expect me to-" whatever the bank manager was about to say was cut off, a skull flying through the window and biting his head off in a single chomp. The bank manager fell to his knees, his severed stump of a neck spurting blood, everyone staring in shock. The skull itself rolled in a circle, stopping right in front of the guards and the two criminals.

Then it began to sing. "IIIIII AIN'T GOT NOBOOOOOOODY!"

Wild Card crushed the skull with a single blow from his crowbar. That served as the patrons' cue to panic.

"Everyone, please stay calm!" the lead guard shouted. "Please assist in barricading the doors and windows! We're going to try and hold out until rescue comes! Can anyone get reception through the storm?"

Eventually, people calmed down enough to start doing what the lead guard asked, pushing chairs and tables up against the windows. Those with phones found out they couldn't get any reception.

"We'll just have to make do, then," the lead guard said as the guards came back from setting up barricades, bringing weapons. "Everyone, get ready. We hold the line here. No one dies, not even the criminals."

"Love you too, captain," Ace said.

"No one deserves to die the way I saw those people dying," the lead guard said. "Prepare yourself."

Wild Card and Ace nodded, getting into position where the lead guard told him. As he issued commands, the two thieves had to admit a grudging respect for the man.

"He seems capable," Wild Card said.

Ace nodded in agreement. Thunder rumbled, and Ace flinched. "I just wish this storm would go away," she said. "It's unnatural..."

"A true harbinger of the end," Wild Card said. "But we'll get out of this, my dear. We're the Getaway Gang. We're ALWAYS getting away with it."

"I don't know," Ace said, fingering the trigger of her shotgun. "This feels different… Like we're not going to escape."

"We WILL," Wild Card insisted, firmly believing everything he said. "We will. And once we're away, we'll make a movie of it. A combination heist film/zombie movie! Imagine the box office returns!"

"I admire your confidence, beloved," Ace said softly, chuckling at the idea.

For a brief few minutes, there was silence. Weapons were passed out, Ace and Wild Card keeping their own weapons. The civilians were all herded towards the vault, ready to retreat inside it should the need arise. The sounds of the monsters outside, inaudible at first through the thick walls of the bank, started to get louder and louder.

"They're approaching the doors," said one of the guards.

"Get ready," said the captain.

There was a pounding as the zombies began to smash their way into the building. Gunfire blazed, fire-skulled zombies falling in splatters of yellow. Heavy caliber shells tore through necrotic, cursed flesh, the storm thundering viciously outside. The guards did their best to focus on the monsters, using their fallen bodies to try and build up a natural wall.

"They're everywhere!" shouted one guard.

"Stoic up, my good man!" Wild Card said. "We can do this!"

The monsters kept coming, an endless wave. As if they could sense that the people in the bank were the only humans left. As the battle went on, more and more freakish monsters began to appear, some throwing fireballs, some fat and hulking. Smaller ones scrambled over their fallen brethren and attacked, the guards realizing to their horror that these smaller zombies were children..

"What the FUCK is going on?!" shouted one of the guards.

"Questions later! Keep shooting!" the captain shouted.

Bullets flew, shells exploded, and zombies fell. Each guard and the two thieves were keeping track of their ammunition count, well aware that they were starting to run low. But they would keep fighting. They had to protect the innocents in the bank. It was their job.

And then one of the civilians began to scream. Not a scream of fear, but a scream of utter, guttural agony. Still firing, Ace whirled around, paling beneath her mask. "Oh my God… They're coming out of the director's office!"

"WHAT?!" the captain shouted, using his rifle butt to cave in the skull of a female zombie.

"The hidden exit in his office..." Ace said, realizing her mistake. "We didn't think to block off the hidden exit in his office!"

The arrival of monsters into the bank caused mass panic. The civilians began to scatter, unintentionally trampling each other and running into more monsters. Some tried to get into the vault and close it behind them, only for several monsters to follow them in just as the door shut. Blood began to ooze from underneath the metal.

And one by one the guards began to fall. Distracted or jostled by fleeing civilians, they were overtaken and torn apart by the vicious zombies. The captain was the last to die, the wall collapsing on top of him as the monsters broke through at last, stalking towards the two of them.

Only the Getaway Gang was left. The two stared out into the raging purple storm, zombies and monsters swarming around them, chuckling viciously.

"I'm sorry," Ace said regretfully. "I didn't think to barricade that entrance..."

"Come now, my dear," Wild Card said, feigning cheerfulness for his beloved's benefit. "I didn't think to check it either. And really, how often does one encounter a zombie apocalypse? There's no real sensible way to prepare for one without previous experience."

"This seems to be our last one," Ace said softly. She checked her guns, finding them out of ammo, and discarded them, brandishing her crowbar. "I wish..."

Wild Card pulled up both his masks, then did the same for Ace. He then pulled her into a passionate kiss, the two lovers sharing a final embrace. "I love you, my Ace," Wild Card said. He too was out of ammo and wielding just his crowbar.

"I love you, my Wild Card," Ace said softly.

"We may not be getting away this time," Wild Card said. "Too many here for my little trick to be effective… But let's make sure we take as many of these bastards as we can with us."

"Amen," Ace said, grinning as the two of them pulled their masks back into place, the two clanking their crowbars together in a final toast. "Okay, freakshows. BRING IT ON!"

The monsters charged the two, mainly the smaller ones. Crowbars smashed and punctured bodies as the two master thieves struggled to stay alive. And to their credit, they managed to put up a decent fight. Ace struck with precision, each blow a lethal one to a zombie. Wild Card's unpredictable attacks seem to come at all angles at once, zombies unable to block without getting viciously destroyed.

But the horde was endless. For every one zombie the Getaway Gang destroyed, ten more took their place. And large, hulking brute zombies were making their way in. The two of them braced themselves as the brutes made their way towards them, Wild Card stepping in front of Ace…

And then the zombies faded away, disappearing into ash, as if they were never there. Wild Card and Ace looked at each other, startled, wondering what happened. "...That was odd," Ace understated. Wild Card laughed nervously.

"Wait," said a voice from outside. "SURVIVORS?! Hey, if you're alive, say something!"

Wild Card and Ace traded concerned looks. They still had their loot with them. They could just leave. But criminals they may be, heartless they were not. If there were others who survived the storm and the zombie horde, they had to help them.

"Yes!" Wild Card said. "Just the two of us, I'm afraid! In the bank!" He and Ace stepped out, stopping as they saw a quartet of soldiers, in slightly-armored camo pants and green shirts, standing around a large device with a huge glass sphere on top of it, containing the purple clouds that had been ravaging the skies earlier.

The apparent leader of the group, a Latina woman, stepped forward. "Thank God… I'm Major Angelica Ramirez, Vindertech Special Forces. I was afraid we didn't get here in time to save anyone," she said.

"Wild Card and Ace," Wild Card said, deciding to use their professional names.

"Wait, I know those names!" the large black male soldier said. "You're the Getaway Gang! Hell, I seen you on the news a few times!"

Ace chuckled. "We do have something of a reputation," she said. "And before you ask, we were robbing that bank before the apocalypse set in. We tried to aid the people inside once the zombies attacked, but… well..."

While they were talking, the blonde male had gone into the bank to examine it. He came out looking ill. "Yeah, this is a pretty bad one..." he said.

"How bad are we talking?" asked the female black soldier.

"Some of the horde trapped some people in the vault," the blonde said, pulling out a small bottle of pink medicine and chugging it. "Not as bad as Budapest, but pretty dang close..."

"Damn it…" Ramirez said, shaking her head. "All right. Jonesy, you and Spitfire take the Storm Absorber back to the truck so Dr. Vinderman can study it. Maybe this time will be the one where we learn how to PREDICT when Storms will show up. Banshee, go get a couple Storm Pods set up."

"Ah," Ace said. "I was wondering about that device..."

Ramirez nodded. "It's a machine meant to absorb the energy of the Storm itself. When a Storm instance shows up, we try and get to it and contain it to minimize the casualties. Dr. Vinderman has been studying it for years now, trying to contain it. Outbreaks of it are getting worse..."

"Apparently," Wild Card said dryly. "Well, if there's nothing else, we'd like to be on our way. I do hope the fact that we're leaving with ill gotten gains isn't a problem."

"Not at all," Ramirez said, shaking her head. "One, you've just been through a Storm. So long as you weren't killing anyone yourself, I'd say you'd earned the right to walk away. Two… You can't walk away."

Wild Card's eyes narrowed. Ace frowned, idly tapping her crowbar into her hand. "And the reason for that would be..."

Ramirez sighed, smiling sadly. "You've been through a Storm. So have we. Surviving a Storm has… consequences…"

Wild Card and Ace traded worried looks. "Define consequences," Wild Card demanded.

"Exposure to Storm energy changes you. Without certain procedures, you'll become Husks yourselves, like the unfortunate victims of the Storm you were forced to slay earlier. In fact, you should be feeling the first effects of it right abouuuut… now," Ramirez said.

And sure enough, as soon as she said it, both Wild Card and Ace were suddenly hit with intense pain, their bodies radiating purple electricity as they collapsed, writing in agony, their crowbars clanking to the ground.

It was pain unlike anything they had ever experienced. Both Ace and Wild Card felt as if every molecule in their bodies were being torn apart and reassembled with wielding torches while being electrocuted at the same time. And their faces felt like they were on fire, as if the skin from their faces was trying to peel away at the mouth.

Ramirez hit both of them with a powerful tranquilizer/pain-killer from a dart gun on her waist, both of them falling mercifully unconscious but still tense, still radiating storm energy. She then sighed, shaking her head, and picked up Wild Card, hefting the sparking, white-suited thief on one shoulder. Banshee came up to her, the dark-skinned soldier shaking her head as she picked up Ace.

"Gettin' all sorts of people for the island these days," Banshee said. "And these two are actually celebrities."

"Dr. Vinderman mentioned that he was impressed by their work," Ramirez said as she and Banshee took the two thieves to their truck, a massive eighteen-wheeler, setting them inside individual pods that looked like silver eggs. They set them down on the cushions and sealed them inside, Ramirez opening a panel on each egg and activating them.

Dark purple energy washed over the two thieves, the sparking in their bodies going away as they relaxed. "We'll let them sleep for a night," Ramirez said. She turned to the others. "Set course for Royale Island Two."

Jonesy, Spitfire, and Banshee saluted, Spitfire and Banshee heading up to drive the truck while Ramirez stayed behind to monitor the thieves.

"Helluva thing," Jonesy said, the blonde man leaning against the Storm Absorber.

"They're alive," Ramirez said. "That's what is important."

"Yeah," Jonesy said. "But you know that they're gonna end up recruited into the Battle Royale."

"The Royale is optional, Jonesy, you know that," Ramirez said, sighing.

Jonesy shook his head. "Everyone joins the Battle Royale. It's the most interesting thing to do on the island, even with all the comforts Dr. Vinderman provides," he said. "I'm just…" He sighed. "I'm tired of being too late. Of just bringing people to that stupid, freaking, constantly warping island. They've got a freaking golf course up now where Anarchy Acres used to be. Literally just appeared a few days ago."

Ramirez sat down, sighing wearily. "I'm tired of it too, Jonesy. But we're here to do a job, and save as many people as we can. We just have to trust that the Doctor can fix things eventually."

"I hope so..." Jonesy said.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hours later…

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Wild Card was the first to awaken, groaning in pain and pulling his mask off. He looked around, seeing the egg around him, the purple energy flowing in and out of him, Ace coming to her senses in the egg next to him… and frowned.

"Oh drat… It wasn't a dream, then..." he muttered

"What's going on?" Ace said groggily, removing her mask as well. Her voice was being broadcast through a speaker in Wild Card's egg, and he assumed his would be broadcast to her as well. "The last thing I remember is… pain..." She suddenly became fully aware, looking at Wild Card.

"It's all right," Wild Card said. "It seems that we're in a healing chamber of some kind."

"A wise assumption," said a voice with a light German accent. Wild Card and Ace turned, spotting an older man being displayed on a monitor, Ramirez and Jonesy standing next to it. The man had a long, bushy beard and neatly combed hair, both beard and hair a graying black. "I am Doctor Siegfried Vinderman, Creator and CEO of Vindertech."

Both of the thieves were impressed. "It's an honor, sir," Ace said, smiling sincerely.

"Indeed," Wild Card said, grinning widely. "To meet the man who not only found a way around monopoly laws of every country and took control of every business in the world, but also subverted the global economy so that money that he created is the only currency used in the world? MOST impressive."

Dr. Vinderman sighed. "I'm not proud of that," he said. "But after what my Oracle Machine saw in another world… One engulfed by the Storm…" He shook his head. "I had to do something. And I needed all the world under control so I could study the Storm and try to prevent its occurrences. My success has been… Limited..."

"What is the Storm, anyway?" Ace asked, noticing that he was using it as a proper noun.

"I don't know," Dr. Vinderman admitted. "All I know for sure about it is that it is sapient, it has appeared multiple times throughout history… and that it possesses a virulent hatred for all of humanity."

"...Not a comforting thought," Wild Card said.

"It's not meant to be," Dr. Vinderman said. "As for what I'm guessing is your next most obvious question, what happened to you is what I shall answer next."

"Please do," Ace said. "I'm not claustrophobic but I'd like to get out of here." She tapped on the door, her expression nervous.

Dr. Vinderman sighed. "This is where I give bad news… The devices are not healing you. Not really. They are stabilizing you, stabilizing the residual Storm energy in your bodies. And you will need to spend a few hours in these pods every week for the rest of your lives."

"...I'm sorry, what?" Wild Card said, looking alarmed.

"The REST OF OUR LIVES?!" Ace almost shrieked.

Ramirez nodded. "My unit and I all need to use the Storm Pods too," she said. "We're just very lucky that he got the design for them right the first time, since ours were the prototypes."

"We are taking you to a facility, an island, where you and other Storm Survivors will live," Dr. Vinderman said. "You will be fed, clothed, housed..."

Both thieves slumped over in their pods, stunned. Ace shook her head. "There has to be some way out of this," she said. "We're the Getaway Gang. We ALWAYS escape..."

"Not this time, I'm afraid," Dr. Vinderman said sadly. "The Storm has claimed you. And the primary power source of the Storm Pods is on the island. They're running on battery power right now, but that will run out. Which means you must be renewed by my devices weekly, at the island where the primary power sources is located, or you will become the Storm's servants..."

Wild Card's fists clenched. "Damnable thing… So we're refugees now?" he said angrily.

"I'm afraid so," Dr. Vinderman said. "However, there is good news..."

"Good news," Ace said, her voice a snarl. "We've lost our lives to the Storm and now have to live on some island with a bunch of refugees for the rest of our lives while occasionally taking ENERGY BATHS so we don't start wearing our own faces as HOODIES! What could POSSIBLY be good about ANY OF THIS!?"

Ramirez and Jonesy traded amused looks. Dr. Vinderman smirked. "The place you'll be staying is a paradise and you can have your own fully customized penthouse apartment. Or even a full house, if you wish."

The two thieves blinked as one. "What?" they said in unison.

Dr. Vinderman turned away from the camera. "Ray, if you'll start the slideshow?" he asked.

"Right away, Dr. Vinderman!" said an electronically modulated female voice. There was a clicking sound, and the image changed. A tropical paradise was shown with a thriving community. Massive hotels, a theme park, what looked to be a superhero headquarters and a supervillain headquarters, an arcade, restaurants galore..."

"A spa," Ace said excitedly. "Wild Card, I saw a SPA!"

Wild Card was stroking his chin thoughtfully. Then he grinned. "Very clever, Doctor..."

Dr. Vinderman came back on the screen, one eyebrow raised in an amused gesture. "I have more money than I'll ever be able to spend in a billion lifetimes. Why not use it to make those forced to live on my island comfortable?"

"Very comfortable, from the looks of it," Wild Card said.

"Dr. Vinderman," Ace said, relieved, "thank you. I was worried this was going to be a prison sentence."

"Certainly not," Dr. Vinderman said, offended. "You are in my care now. I make sure that those in my care are protected."

"Indeed," Wild Card said. "Does the island have events?"

Ramirez and Jonesy traded amused grins again. "Well," Jonesy said. "Lemme tell you about the Battle Royale..."

The two master thieves traded curious looks, relaxing in their pods as Jonesy began to talk. "Y'see, the Storm Pods have an extra feature. It lets you broadcast your mind into a holographic body. Y'can't stay in the Pods too long, they're perfectly safe, so you can use the holographic body to explore another island the Doc has set up, one where physics are… well, weird."

Ramirez chimed in. "Almost everything on the island can be broken down using a pickaxe-like tool, made into one of three different kinds of material, wood, stone, and metal, to be used in Dr. Vinderman's autobuilder devices."

"You can build all sorts of towers and ramps and stuff," Jonesy said. "As for your bodies, well… You can feel pleasure normally in them. But pain is greatly reduced. Like, a shotgun blast to the face will just sting for a moment."

Ramirez smirked. "Which led to the most popular activity among Storm Survivors – the Battle Royale."

"About a hundred of us start out on a small island near the main Royale Island," Jonesy said, grinning widely. "Once we've all broadcasted in, we all get on this specially rigged bus, we call it the Battle Bus, and skydive down to the island, using this special, fully customizable gliders to land safely. We scavenge for weapons, and the last man standing wins. Usually extra Vbucks to go with what we get weekly."

Ace blinked. "You're literally paying us to stay on the island," she said.

"And, only if you want to, you get to play with cool weapons and stuff and shoot people without guilt. Not a single drop of blood is spilled. If you get eliminated, instead of dying you just wake up in your Storm Pod," Ramirez said.

Dr. Vinderman chimed in. "It serves a study ground for me, meaning that the Battle Royale also helps as much as it entertains. The violence draws Storm instances to the island, slowly closing around it in a circle over the course of a day. The Storm dissipates if someone wins, or if it gets a chance to close in. The holographic bodies aren't hurt by the Storm, but it does disrupt them. Long enough exposure will count as an 'elimination,' so if you participate, try to keep out of the Storm."

"And honestly? People play on the island as much as they fight," Ramirez added. "They goof around, they explore…" Ramirez blushed a little. "...They do 'other things...'" The master thieves smirked, getting what she meant immediately. Ramirez coughed, composing herself, and continued. "The actual soldiers really are the only ones who take the Battle Royale completely seriously."

"Well… them and the soccer team," Jonesy said, looking irritated.

Ramirez cringed. "Don't talk to me about those tryhards… About the only thing that can distract them is the soccer fields, and they always fucking team up, even in Solos..."

Wild Card and Ace traded amused looks. After a moment, Ace asked, "I saw superheroes flying around in that video of yours. I'm assuming that your island is where they disappeared to a few months ago?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Dr. Vinderman said. "It's lucky that their villains were forced to come here as well, limiting the threat they pose."

"The rocket," Ramirez said softly.

Dr. Vinderman scowled. "I said limit, not eliminate..." he muttered.

"We'll explain later," Jonesy said at the thieves curious looks.

"Very well..." Wild Card asked. "This does bring to mind a serious question about their powers, and the advantages they could bring..."

"I have rigged the holographic bodies to have baseline human levels of strength, depending on their physical fitness. Those with wings might be able to fly, but only because it's a natural physical ability of theirs. No energy blasts, no non-winged flight, no magic beyond cosmetic effects… The Battle Royale is completely fair," Dr. Vinderman said proudly.

Wild Card smiled. "This is growing more and more fascinating..." he said. "Do you have variations in the matchups?"

Jonesy nodded. "Singles, duos, trios, four-man squads… Doesn't stop people from teaming up," he said, adding with a mutter. "Like the goddamn soccer team… But in the end, only one contestant or team can win."

"We also do more unique challenge games now and then," Ramirez said. "Two team of fifty, jetpacks and shotguns only, explosive weapons only, that sort of thing..."

Ace and Wild Card talked quietly to one another for a moment, mischievous grins on their faces. After a few moments, they turned back to the others. "We're definitely going to participate in the Battle Royale, my good doctor," Wild Card said. "We even have an idea for a unique challenge..."

Dr. Vinderman smiled. "I'm all ears," he said. The Getaway Gang explained their idea for a game. And the master of Royale Island laughed. "Oh, this is going to be a very fun time indeed."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Later…

Royale Island…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As they dove down out of the Battle Bus, phantom Vbucks trailing behind them, Wild Card and Ace chatted idly with each other as they fell to the island.

"A thought occurred to me just now, my dear," Wild Card said. "It was in a very roundabout way… but we did get away with our robbery."

Ace thought about it, and laughed. "Y'know what? We did," she said, looking back to the money-stuffed satchel on her back. "Vindermen let us keep our stolen loot as 'back bling.'" She shook her head at the term.

"And now?" Wild Card said, grinning beneath his mask, "we get to get away with it over and over again. In a whole new setting to challenge ourselves in."

Ace grinned as well. "Ha! You're right!" she said.

Once they had fallen a certain distance, the two master thieves released their gliders, customized to look like vault doors with treasure stacked on top of them, floating down to land on top of the golf course's main building. They pocketed their gliders once they landed, looking up to see safes falling from the sky. Inside of them were large jewels in the shape of llamas, Dr. Vinderman's favorite animal.

Ace and Wild Card clinked their crowbars together. "To work, my dear?" Wild Card asked.

Ace nodded, grinning. "To work. Here's to getting away with it forever."

"Amen!" Wild Card said, laughing.

_**THE END**_


	2. Trooper makes some friends

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 2: Trooper makes some friends**_

_**By Jonathan "KnightMysterio" Spires**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Royale Island...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The contestants of Royale Island are a friendly lot. The fact that no one actually died or got hurt during the battles made it easier for people to befriend each other. Even the hardcore tryhards like the soccer team tended to get along with everyone. There was a lot of playing around through every battle. And in Duos matches, like the one going on right now, there was a partner for everyone. Some groups already came in teams, like the brother and sister duo, Bright Gunner and Bright Bomber. For those who didn't have a teammate already with them, there would always be someone willing to partner with them.

And then there was Trooper (the jerk).

By all accounts, the man who insisted on the name Trooper should have been professional. He had dark hair, cut military style, was Asian-American in heritage, and wore a white-colored version of the outfit Dr. Vinderman's personal soldiers wore. He was a skilled contestant, and had won several times in Solos. But there was one problem, one that made people draw straws to see who would partner with him.

He was a complete, total jackass. He hated everyone, and everything. And if no one teamed with him, he'd become even more obnoxious until he got what he wanted. He had no filter and was proud of it, saying whatever was on his mind at the time no matter who it insulted.

"Dipshit DJs coming North," Trooper said.

"Got 'em," said Desperado, aiming his sniper rifle. He fired, the bullet striking the male of the duo, DJ Yonder, in the chest, sending him into the 'knockdown' state, the first phase of eliminating someone in a team mode. Being 'knocked' as some called it left the projected bodies helpless, capable of only crawling slowly on the ground. DJ Bop quickly built up a barrier around them, the pink, alpaca-masked DJ taking out the blueprints and pencil that made up the autobuilder device and quickly creating a barrier of wood.

"Fuckin' coward bitch," Trooper said from where he and Desperado perched on top of the defunct toilet-making plant named Flush Factory. "Teach them to wear lighted clothes at night." He began firing on them to try and keep DJ Bop from healing, tearing through the barrier.

Desperado sighed, firing as well. "Any zombies?" he asked, focusing on the fight. Together, they were able to tear down DJ Bop's shelter and eliminate her, the still-downed DJ Yonder getting eliminated at the same time once his partner was defeated.

Trooper glanced around. "There's a shard off to the left, looks like it just formed with that last lightning strike, but no one's triggered it. Undead fuckers are just staring off into space."

Desperado sighed. And that was another thing to be annoying. The mysterious giant cube, which everyone had affectionately nicknamed Kevin, was now floating around the island as a floating island himself, charging mystical runes. The energy he was putting out created ghostly shards that unleashed hordes of zombie-like creatures that attacked everyone, turning battles into contests of survival.

And Desperado, who drew the short straw, ended up with the biggest jackass on Home Island and Royale Island as his partner.

Admittedly, Trooper was an excellent contestant. He came up with good strategies, was good at both avoidance, camping, and combat tactics, and tended to last to the top twenty-five most of the time. Choosing Flush Factory had placed them in the safe zone for most of the match, and they hadn't had to move the entire time.

It's just that he was SUCH a JERK!

"Oi. Asshole," Trooper said, poking him. "Check our left. Anyone coming in?"

Desperado glared. _I was just about to check, you-_ He bit back his anger, adjusting his hat and looking. "No one."

Trooper sighed, irritated. "Good. Don't need to be dealing with any fuckin' dickcheese bastards right now..."

Desperado rolled his eyes. "What's your problem? Other than the usual," he asked. He smirked, and added, "Brite Bomber exist in your presence again?"

Trooper growled. The brother-sister duo of Brite Gunner and Brite Bomber were the most cheerful, friendly, and outgoing people on the Islands. And Trooper despised them more than anything in this world. Especially Brite Bomber, who seemed to enjoy annoying Trooper. "Do NOT get me started on that bitch," he snarled. "Fuckin' caught her and Drift necking on Home Island the other day."

Desperado snickered. "Hey, the guy was sucked out of his world. Let him have a little fun," he said.

"Absolutely goddamn nobody deserves to have Brite Bomber's fuckin' hippy dippy cheerleader power of positivity bullshit inflicted on them," Trooper snarled. "The fact that he willingly goes out with her lowers my opinion of Drift to fuckin' ZERO."

Desperado shook his head, deciding not to pursue it. Trooper continued (much to Desperado's dismay). "But no, that's not why I'm mad. I'm mad for two reasons. One, Cuddles has ANOTHER teddy bear to add to her squad."

"Spooky Team Leader, I remember," Desperado said. Cuddle Team Leader, affectionately called Cuddles by everyone else, was a woman in a pink, form-fitting bear costume who wore an adorable pink bear mascot mask over her head. She'd gotten two others with similar fashion sense in Fireworks Team Leader, a patriotic themed bear, and a Chinese fan of hers who'd taken on the name P.A.N.D.A. Team Leader to fit her panda-like costume. Spooky Team Leader was a recent addition, her costume more zombie-like in appearance.

"Bad enough that huggy bitch Cuddles has her own squad of furries now," Trooper muttered. "But then there's the goddamn monsters."

Desperado frowned, looking back at Trooper. He glanced in the direction of the crystal… and saw zombies heading for them. "Shit, the zombies made us," he said, pointing.

"Fuck. Focus on the crystal with your sniper rifle!" Trooper ordered, pulling out his crossbow. "I'll keep the zombies off of us!" Desperado nodded, the two of them firing away. Desperado took shots at the spawn crystal with his heavy sniper rifle, while Trooper took down zombies with his crossbow, specially rigged to have infinite ammunition.

Very useful when defending against a horde.

"Is there anything you actually do like?" Desperado asked between shots.

Trooper thought for a moment. "...I like the pets. Frickin' sad that a dog, a chameleon, and a little baby dragon got caught up in this… But yeah," Trooper said. "We got fucking monsters with us now, and it's disgusting. The plague doctors were bad enough, two more losers sucked forward in time. But there's the goddamn scarecrows, thinkin' they're so damn smart hanging around Fatal Fields and blending in. And then there's the faggoty-ass VAMPIRES. Goddamn Twilight-lookin' bastards..."

Desperado rolled his eyes. "The doc wants all Storm Survivors in one place. We're all helping him find ways to protect people from the Storm."

"I don't fuckin' care," Trooper said. "I hate 'em. Faggoty-lookin' vampires, dumb-ass scarecrows, medieval loser fuckhead plague doctors, fucking DUMB looking pumpkinheads, creepy-ass spider people, and the stupid fuckin' werewolf idiot. Only good thing about him is that he brought in Fable with him, and NNFFF dat ass."

Desperado couldn't disagree with that. The Red Riding Hood-themed huntress was quite attractive. But before he could say anything, he glanced behind him, his eyes widening in fear. He gulped nervously.

One of the people watching him gestured for him to flee. Desperado gladly left, the person who dismissed him taking his place. Trooper didn't even notice.

"They're all fucking ugly, and fucking stupid. I'd rather hang around Giddy-Up and Yee-Haw, and I think they're retards. No, the monsters are the worst thing to happen to the Battle Royale since Brite Bomber and Brite Gunner were shat out into the world. And I'm sticking by that," he said, a final sniper shot destroying the crystal. Trooper nodded, finishing off the last of the zombies. "All right. That's… gonna… be… enough… for now..."

Surrounding Trooper were everyone who he had been insulting earlier. And they had heard everything.

Dire, the werewolf, snarled at him furiously, his jaws dripping with saliva. Sanctum and Dusk, the vampires, glared at Trooper with the amusement of a small child with a magnifying glass standing over an ant hill. The plague doctors, Plague and his assistant Scourge, stared at him wordlessly through their beaked masks. The bestial Spider-Knight's mandibles clicked angrily, Arachne's hand being the only thing keeping him from mauling Trooper right then and there. The pumpkinheaded Hollowhead, ghostly flames emanating from his eyes and mouth, tapped his axe on one hand menacingly, which the more friendly-looking pumpkinhead Jack Gourdon, in his pumpkin-themed suit, casually lay his sniper rifle that he had been using moments ago on his shoulder. The scarecrows, Hay Man and Straw Ops, slowly stalked around Trooper in a circle, their heads bobbing back and forth.

Trooper looked them over, seeing the anger in their faces at his words. "I'm not apologizing," Trooper said, folding his arms and defiantly glaring at them.

Dusk's hand clamped around Trooper's throat, lifting him into the air. The pale-skinned vampire's wings flared as she hissed, baring her fangs. Trooper gagged a little, but was otherwise unhurt. "You idiots do realize that I'm not really here, right?" he said. "I don't feel much pain in this body. Plus, the limiters block your magic."

Sanctum chuckled, removing his mask to reveal his fanged mouth. "Not all of it," he said simply.

Dire chuckled cruelly. "And you'd be surprised at what you can live through," he growled.

And then they all pounced on him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Elsewhere…

Later…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Gotta say, this place just keeps getting weirder," Drift said. He pulled out a spray can and used it to paint a premade image he designed earlier on the wall of the cliff face. Silently, he was glad he could design images himself to use as sprays, but having them instantly appear felt like cheating. He adjusted his Japanese-style fox mask and black and yellow jacket, pink lightning swirling around him briefly. "Ah well."

The dimensionally-displaced graffiti artist touched his mask, musing on the energy that filled him, giving him access to magic when he was not using an avatar to be on Royale Island. He had dropped through the rift shortly after a massive rocket had tore a hole in the sky, traveling to this world from his own. And honestly? He was happy. He had nothing back home, no friends or family, just followers on his net blog. None of whom knew him personally. Here? He had made friends almost instantly, and even got a girlfriend out of it too. With a supportive big brother at that!

He smiled, pulling out another spraycan and using it to create an image of Brite Bomber blowing a kiss. He gently blew the image a kiss back, and resolved to take Brite out for dinner after he got back. He turned… and saw a zombie shuffling towards him, his body warped and twisted, his jaw dangling and his skin mottled and rotten. Its clothes were tattered, and its eyes were glowing.

"Hate… monsters… hate… monsters..." the zombie moaned, barely able to see as it lurched towards Drift, hands outstretched to strangle him.

Drift quickly pulled out his pistol and emptied the clip into the creature. To his surprise, though, instead of vanishing into a puff, a device appeared above its head, absorbing it in a cloud of data.

The same thing that happened to players when they were eliminated.

Drift blinked. "...Wait, that was a contestant?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Home Island…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Trooper woke up inside his Storm Pod, the death of his avatar sending his consciousness back to his real body. He immediately scowled. "Fuckin' HATE those guys," he muttered. Shaking his head in frustration, he got out of his pod and decided to go grab a burger.

Maybe he could pick on Grill Sergeant. That always cheered him up. "Just another day in the life, I guess," he said. "Better not have messed up my avatar." Trooper shrugged, the painful lesson the monsters had tried to teach him about not being rude completely lost on him.

Oh well…

_**THE END**_


	3. Cold Comparisons

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 3: Cold Comparisons**_

_**by Jonathan "KnightMysterio" Spires**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Vinder Apartments…

Home Island...

Main lounge…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The video stopped. Two people sat on the couch in the middle of the lounge, having just finished watching a movie. One was a ponytailed woman with a pink hat and pants, the other was an elegant woman in a revealing blue dress, blue tiara, and fur cape, her hair platinum blonde and her eyes crystal blue.

"Well?" the pink-hatted woman, named Rose Team Leader, said to her companion. "What do you think, Glimmer?"

The icy princess smiled warmly. "It certainly was an entertaining… what did you call it? A movie?"

Rose nodded. "Right. I guess you just had theater in the era the Storm sucked you out of," she said.

Glimmer nodded. "Indeed," she said. "Technology has advanced much since my kingdom existed." A brief melancholy look crossed her face, before she continued. "But yes, I can see why people keep calling me Elsa. Ruler of a kingdom, my ice magic, my hairstyle..."

Rose sat down next to her on the couch. "And you don't mind?" she asked.

"Not at all! Certainly I prefer my real name, but I don't mind the comparison. Truthfully, I'm actually a little flattered, as Elsa can do something I can't," Glimmer said.

Rose was curious now. "What's that?"

Glimmer, blushing, fidgeted a little and said, "...I couldn't carry a tune if it was glued to me."

Rose laughed, Glimmer grinning shyly. Rose patted the time-displaced princess on the shoulder, and said, "C'mon. Let's watch another movie."

_**THE END**_


	4. No Peeking

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 4: No Peeking**_

_**by Jonathan "KnightMysterio" Spires**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Home Island...

Locker Room…

Bulk-Up Gymnasium...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ranger, a blonde man in green camo pants and scarf and a yellow shirt, liked to think of himself as a professional. He had come here to work out, to get ready for the next time he participated in the Battle Royale. But as he went to the locker room and undressed, he saw two familiar suits of armor just laying next to the entrance to the women's showers.

Criterion and Oblivion. Criterion was a heroine, partner to the genius Carbide, and her blue and orange suit hugged her muscular curves gloriously. Oblivion, on the other hand, wore armor similar to her dread master Omega, her helmet bearing a version of his intimidating faceplate. She was the living incarnation of the trope Evil is Sexy. Both of them were athletic and well-built, and to Ranger's eyes had perfect figures, obvious even through their armor. He couldn't see the curve of their breasts, the armor they wore was practical and protective rather than shaped, but around their butts…

Oh, those beautiful butts. So shapely, so curvy. And when they danced… NNFF! Dancing was a particularly popular activity among the contestants. Criterion and Oblivion both may have been more serious than their counterparts, choosing not to indulge in the movie filming that had gone on before meteor strike a few months ago, but they both were excellent dancers. And they always tended to go for dances that showed off their shapely rears.

Ranger, if asked, would freely admit that he'd zoomed in on those butts from afar using a sniper rifle.

And here they were now. Naked and with those perfect bodies bared.

Ranger swallowed hard. He knew it was wrong. But he'd never get a chance like this again. Slowly, being as quiet as possible, he snuck into the showers. He tried to be careful, sticking to the lockers so he wouldn't noticed.

"I hate the fact that I have to share the showers with you, Criterion," came Oblivion's voice.

"Deal with it," came Criterion's voice. "This was the only time both of us had to take a shower today after training." Oblivion just growled in response, and Criterion chuckled. "You'd have a lot more friends if you'd just be nicer."

"I have Master Omega," Oblivion said. "That is more than enough."

Ranger, encouraged, slowly snuck over to the entrance to the showers. He slowly peered inside… and there they were. The two most (in Ranger's opinion) beautiful women on the island. Criterion was African-American, like Carbide was. He recognized her from the sound of her voice. Her body was well-trained, arms and legs solid ropes of muscle. She had short, dark hair in a pixie cut, a scar across her face from a past battle. Oblivion was just as well built, pale-skinned with white hair also in a short cut, and eyes a dark red, a contrast to Criterion's bright blue.

Steam was blocking him from seeing anything too intimate. Slowly, carefully, the two facing away from him for now, he peered in closer and closer… and slipped on some water, landing roughly.

Both women froze. Oblivion was literally radiating anger, a dark aura coming from her, while Criterion's fists clenched. The fact that both were naked and covered in soap didn't do a thing to alleviate the intimidating effect.

"Whomever you are, you have until I turn around to flee," Oblivion said in a far-too-calm voice. "If you are still there when I turn around, then Vinderman's rules be damned, I will kill you. And your death with be LEGENDARY."

Ranger had never run away that fast in his life.

Oblivion and Criterion both peered out of the shower, looking around the lockers. "Hmph," Oblivion muttered. "I think we need to leave our suits on scan mode from now on..."

"For once, I agree with you," Criterion said, scowling.

_**THE END**_


	5. Scouting

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 5: Scouting**_

_**by Jonathan "KnightMysterio" Spires**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Home Island…

Royale Park…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

If you were to look at the park in Home Island, you'd see an unlikely pair. One was a man in a black biker outfit with blue helmet and highlights. Like most everyone, he'd chosen to go by a callsign. In his case, Honor Guard.

His companion was a rather slender young man, with a black hoodie with red highlights and white sleeves. He wore a facemask that left his eyes and nose exposed, and black pants as well. He was actually famous, the Korean pop idol iKONik, who unfortunately had to move to Home Island after a concert of his was overwhelmed a Storm Instance, the performer being the only survivor.

The two had formed an odd friendship of sorts. Honor Guard was the better contestant, teaching the iKONik how to shoot. iKONik was the better socializer, and taught the normally stoic biker how to open up. Right now, iKONik was teaching Honor Guard his trademark dance, the Scenario. "...And then you shuffle your feet while turning forward… yeah, that's it!"

Honor Guard grinned under his helmet, nodding. "Thanks, iKON," he said. "That's a fun little dance."

"The crowds always loved it," iKONik said, shrugging and chuckling. "I'm glad to share it around, though."

"Always good to share," Honor Guard said. "You wanna grab something to eat? That ice cream place isn't far from here."

iKONnik shook his head. "Nah. I'm still mad at Lil' Whip for shooting me in the nads last match. I swear I felt it even with the pain filters our projected bodies have. And since he's the mascot for the ice cream place..."

Honor Guard laughed. "Tacos it is, then," he said. "Let's… oh..."

iKONik frowned, turning in the direction Honor Guard was looking, wondering why his friend was tensing up. When he saw the reason, he groaned. "Oh geez," iKONik said, shaking his head in irritation.

A tall, blonde man in a khaki Boy Scout troupe leader uniform with a sash laden with badges was trotting towards them, one hand on his wide-brimmed campaign hat. "Hi guys!" he said.

"Nice to meet you. You're Sash Sergeant, right?" Honor Guard said.

"Yep!" the Boy Scout leader said, grinning merrily. "The kids and I saw you and figured we'd go introduce ourselves."

iKONik raised an eyebrow. He was glad for his mask, as it hid his sneer. He'd heard of Sash Sergeant, and none of what he had heard had left a good impression.

Honor Guard blinked. "Kids?" he asked.

Sash Sergeant nodded, and gestured to the spaces around himself. "Yep! The fine young men of my troop. Here's William, and Basil, and Jamie, and Jesus, and Lamont and..." He chuckled, and moved as if patting the head of someone clinging to his leg. "Nicky, it's okay. I'm sure they're nice people." Sash Sergeant smiled. "He's the youngest, and a bit shy. But yeah, we just wanted to say hi. You're new around here, right?"

Honor Guard stared a long moment. He removed his helmet, revealing blue-tinted hair, and to iKONik's surprise, he looked sad. "Yeah. My friend here has been here just a week longer than I have," the biker said. "I'm Honor Guard. This is iKONik."

iKONik just nodded, deciding to be polite.

Sash Sergeant gave the Kpop star a curious look. "I swear I've heard that name before," he said softly. He turned to the side for a moment, listening to one of his 'kids.' "Oh… OH! Did you do a song called Love Scenario?"

iKONik nodded again, smiling. "Yeah," he said. "One of my bigger hits. Dance number I did with it is pretty popular around the island, too."

Honor Guard nodded. "Why not show the kids how to do it?" he said. iKONik gave him an incredulous look. Honor Guard's expression became slightly pleading. "It couldn't hurt."

iKONik grumbled inwardly, but decided to play along. Sash Sergeant's talking to the air was creeping him out. "Sure. Anything for the fans, right?" the singer said. He began to go through the steps, as he did for Honor Guard earlier, taking it slow. "Then turn, and then the shuffle… move your feet like this, okay?" He pretended to watch the invisible kids for a moment, and said, "Not bad, not bad. Don't try to do it fast, though, until you're used to it. Let's try it again. Honor Guard, you join in. I'll provide the beat." iKONik began to sing, Honor Guard joining him in the dance. Sash Sergeant attempted it as well. Once they'd gone through a verse of the song and the chorus, iKONik stopped, feeling silly. "Well, just keep at it. I'm sure you'll get it. The music video I did of the song is on Youtube, so you can practice with that."

Sash Sergeant smiled. "Thank you," he said. "The kids really loved it. You're a great guy!"

iKONik shrugged. "I never saw a reason not to be nice to the fans, y'know?" he said.

Sash Sergeant was practically beaming now. "That's a good attitude, young man. Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and meet you," he said. "Honor Guard, iKONik, it was a pleasure."

Honor Guard put his helmet back on. "No problem," he said.

"Hey, always happy to meet the kiddos," iKONik said, smiling weakly.

Sash Sergeant smiled and ushered his 'boys' away. "I have to learn Korean," he could be heard saying. "That was a really pretty song."

iKONik shook his head. Once he was out of hearing range, he muttered, "Freak..."

"Hey, c'mon," Honor Guard said.

"He's creepy!" iKONik insisted. "Always talking to imaginary boys like that..."

"..." Honor Guard frowned. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" iKONik said.

"...Each one of us is the only survivor of a Storm Instance, right?" Honor Guard said.

iKONik shivered, remembering the sounds of his fans dying as the storm monsters tore them apart. "Yeah. So?"

"So Sash Sergeant is a _Boy Scout troop leader. _Think about it," Honor Guard said.

iKONik frowned, folding his arms. _Well, if he's a sole survivor, and he's a… _His eyes widened as it finally dawned on him. "Oh… Oh GOD..." the Kpop star said, giving the direction Sash Sergeant went a horrified look. "That means… the kids..."

"Yeah..." Honor Guard said sadly. "Best guess? He went nuts after all the kids under his protection were killed by storm monsters, and started hallucinating them."

"Jesus Christ..." iKONik said, looking ill. "And I thought…" He shook his head, the singer feeling incredibly guilty now.

Honor Guard patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"Still, you'd think with everything that Dr. Vinderman's provided for us, he'd have gotten some psychological help… It's been over a year now since the storm instances started happening..." iKONik said, frowning.

Honor Guard shrugged. "Maybe he is," he said. "Not my place to pry into his life. All we can do is be nice to him."

iKONik sighed tiredly. "I wish we could do more..." he said.

Honor Guard shook his head. "We can only do what we're capable of. Nothing else," he said. "C'mon, let's get those tacos."

iKONik nodded. He REALLY needed something to eat after all that…

_**THE END**_


	6. Good Boy

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 6: Good Boy**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dr. Vinderman's Office…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The mad scientist who ruled the world while trying to save it from the sentient superstorm that threatened to devour it had lots of ways to keep the funding for his research and containment devices in. One of his biggest moneymakers (that wasn't from a company he had taken over), was the Battle Royale, a game version of what the Storm Survivors (who preferred the name Contestants) went through from time to time. It was absurdly popular, and even had a pro league developing.

The Contestants had all consented to having their images marketed as character skins, with Dr. Vinderman's eight personal soldiers being the 'default' skins. But while Dr. Vinderman was a genius at many things… he wasn't all that good in character design. He tended to reuse faces a lot.

Jonesy, one of Dr. Vindereman's personal soldiers, for example always griped about the fact that so many of the character skins of the contestants had his face. Trooper, another Contestant, was CONSTANTLY complaining that he was a white-clothed reskin of Renegade in the game.

Dr. Vinderman would ward off protests as best he could, claiming that he was practicing and getting steadily better. The truth was? He didn't see the game as that much of a priority over his research.

As of the 'Kevin' incident, in which a mysterious cube had appeared out of a rift, wandered around the island, and exploded, creating shards which summoned zombie-like monsters, there was a new type of Storm Survivor being found. Animals, small and cute, would be found in Storm Instances, and brought to the island. Dr. Vinderman came up with the idea of making special backpacks for the animals so they could accompany the Contestants to the island, the pets having their bodies broadcast with the contestants. And indeed, every animal that came to the island was almost universally loved, even the grumps and the villains liking them.

Dr. Vinderman got the idea to market the pets as well, using their special carrying backpacks as 'back bling,' putting them in Battle Passes, a series specialized 'one-time-only' prizes. One pet, a pink-furred cat named Empress, he put in the item shop instead. There was complaining among fans of the game that you had to buy the cat instead of her being in the battle pass (especially since she was more expensive than the battle pass).

Then, the husband and wife team of British Royal Air Force pilots, Raptor and Velocity, came home with a pet of their own. A German Shepard puppy they named Gunner. They consented to letting their new beloved friend be marketed in the item shop, the two pilots wanting to share the love they had for their pet with the world.

Instead of making Gunner unique, however, Dr. Vinderman decided to just use the character model for Bonesy, putting a yellow balaclava over his head and recoloring the eyes, putting Raptor and Velocity's symbol on the bandana.

When Raptor and Velocity saw the reactions to Gunner's release in the item shop, and the fact that Dr. Vinderman had chosen to go for a reskin, they weren't happy.

Dr. Vinderman sighed as the phone rang, the caller ID showing which Contestant was calling him. He activated his speakerphone, having anticipated this call. "Hello Raptor. Hello Velocity," he said in his thick German accent.

"I presume you know why we're calling, then," Raptor said.

"About the release of Gunner in the game's item shop, ja?" Dr. Vinderman asked.

"You made him a lookalike of bloody Bonesy!" Raptor said. "They're not even the same species of dog! Bonesy's a Goldie! Gunner's a Shepard!"

"It is a matter of programming limitations," Dr. Vinderman said.

"You own literally every company on the bloody planet!" Raptor said. "You think you could at least spare a programmer or two to make a bloody different design for the game!"

Dr. Vinderman sighed. This was an old argument, and he was tired of having it. "The game is low priority to me right now. I am more concerned with using my resources to end the Storm permanently," he said.

"But-" Raptor said.

"I am sorry about what they are saying about Gunner," Dr. Vinderman interrupted. "But you cannot blame that entirely on me."

"…Gunner, he's… He's a love, y'know? Me and Velocity, we never had pets growing up..." Raptor said softly.

"Then be good to him und treasure him," Dr. Vinderman said. "I have better things to worry about than a side project I do work on for amusement." He hung up the phone without another word.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Home Island…

Raptor and Velocity's abode…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Raptor stared at the phone. The pilot, clad in casual sweatpants and a tank top, frowned and shook his head, heading into the living room where his wife, Velocity, who was also clad in sweats and a tank top, was sitting on the couch. On her lap was Gunner, sans balaclava, the dog calmly chewing on a rawhide bone.

Velocity looked up as Raptor strode in. "No go, huh?" she asked.

"Bloody wanker," Raptor muttered, sitting down next to his wife. Gunner wagged his tail happily as Raptor came in, shifting so he could lick his hand. Raptor chuckled, petting his dog happily.

Velocity shook her head. "Didn't think it would work, honestly. He releases the skins of everyone in weird orders anyway. I mean, we joined the games at the same time, and yet look how long it took for him to add me in with you," she said.

Raptor nodded. "I know, I know. It's just… I don't like seeing anyone I care about made light of," he said.

Velocity leaned over and kissed Raptor on the cheek. "And that kindness is part of the reason I love you," she said. "But I think we're gonna have to drop it this time."

"Gunner's a good boy, people shouldn't make fun of him because his in-game model looks like Bonesy..." Raptor muttered. Gunner looked up, wagging his tail at the mention of 'good boy.'

Velocity chuckled, scratching the dog's ears. "WE love him. And we're going to give our bestest best boy the best life we can," she said. "And that's all that matters. Right?"

Raptor chuckled. "I suppose so," he said, putting an arm around Velocity's shoulders as the two relaxed and watched TV.

Gunner, meanwhile, didn't really care about any of that. He couldn't read what people said about him on the internet, and probably wouldn't care if he could. He had his Man, he had his Lady, he had plenty of love from both of them, he had his Squeaky, he had a full belly, and water waiting for him when he was thirsty. He even got to go on adventures from time to time, and sometimes got to play with Bonesy! Bonesy was nice! Life was good, and he was a good dog.

Gunner was content.

_**THE END**_


	7. Brutish

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 7: Brutish**_

_**by Jonathan "KnightMysterio" Spires**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Royale Island…

Battle Bus…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I'm telling you, it's not what you think it is," Lynx said, the lithe, athletic young woman adjusting the claws on her cat-themed battlesuit.

"You're really taking things a lot more serious than they actually are," Zenith said, the young Alaskan in the short-sleeved sweater said.

BRUTE Navigator chuckled. "It's a 100 man battle to the death," he said, the black armored man grinning.

BRUTE Gunner nodded, adjusting the visor of her black helmet. "Well, not death, since our bodies are just broadcast here, but still. This is the kind of competition we live for."

"You're just happy because Dr. Vinderman approved your assault mechs for use in the contest," Lynx said.

"Well, there's that," the two mech pilots said, looking at it each other in surprise when they realized they spoke in unison and laughed.

Lynx just chuckled, shaking her head. "Seriously, you guys were great security for Adventure International's expeditions, but there's nothing like that here. Most of the monsters and villains are pretty much buddy buddy with everyone. Even the big threats like Ice King mellowed out."

"Especially after Singularity killed the Polar Peak monster with the Mecha Team Leader," Zenith added.

"STILL can't believe we missed that," BRUTE Gunner muttered under her breath.

"Hey, if nothing else, you can see the human-sized version of the robot," Lynx said. "After Singularity brought MTL back from her trip into space, she commissioned me and a few of the other techs to build a new one."

BRUTE Navigator shrugged. "Not questioning your knowledge, Lynx, but it's not quite the same."

Lynx rolled her eyes. "Whatever, doods," she said, chuckling.

"In all seriousness," Zenith said, "don't go tryhard on your first match. It'll leave a bad first impression on the others."

BRUTE Gunner snickered. "You call it tryhard, we call it playing to win," she said.

"Speaking of which," BRUTE Navigator said, pointing the large, metal object dropping down from the sky like a comet.

"That's our little darling," BRUTE Gunner said, grinning wickedly. She and Navigator got up and headed for the back of the bus. "See you later in the match?"

"If we're lucky," Lynx said, chuckling.

BRUTE Gunner and BRUTE Navigator bid Lynx farewell and ran out of the bus, calling out their thanks to the driver as they jumped out. The two of them eagerly flew down, heading straight for the landing sight of the BRUTE mech, near a waterfall on the edge of the map, at the river dividing the field and snow biomes. As they approached the landing area, they noticed another team heading for the mech also. Two clowns in frightening masks were heading for the mech, wielding what looks liked balloons crafted into makeshift pickaxes.

"Fuck!" BRUTE Gunner shouted, triggering her glider, a basic blue platform parasail, BRUTE Navigator doing the same. "TAKE 'EM OUT!" she shouted.

BRUTE Navigator landed and, when he got close enough, attacked the girl clown, Peekaboo. To his surprise, when she brought up her pickaxe to counter his diving slash with his more mechanical, scythe-like pickaxe, the two weapons clanked off of each other.

_Right, _Navigator reminded himself. _The harvesting tools are all essentially just pickaxes, they just look different. _"Pretty tough, goofball."

Peekaboo giggled. "Awww, we just wanna play with the giant robot, Georgie!" she cackled in a deliberately high pitched and creepy voice. "Give us a chance first!"

BRUTE Navigator kicked her in the stomach, sending her sprawling. "Not a chance," he said. "We intend to win. Also, I guess you saw my profile in the Doc's files."

Peekaboo looked up. "Wait, your name actually is George?!" she said in a normal voice. "I was just doing some Pennywise shit to be creepy!" She cackled, rolling around on the ground as she laughed. "Oh wow, that is hilarious!"

BRUTE Navigator grumbled, and attempted to bring his pickaxe down on her head. She giggled, rolling out of the way of the blow and into a one-handed handstand. She flipped back to her feet. "C'mon, Georgie!" she taunted in her creepy voice. "Do well and Peekaboo might give you a surprise!"

BRUTE Gunner, meanwhile, was having some trouble with Nite Nite, the male clown. She jumped out of the way of a pickaxe blow, tripping over a tree root and stumbling. "You are needlessly creepy!" she shouted.

"Why thank you!" Nite Nite said in a creepy, giggling voice. "Maybe you and I can play some funny games later!" He brought his pickaxe down, the balloon making a clank sound as smashed into a small rock, harvesting it, BRUTE Gunner barely dodging the blow.

"And that will never not be weird," BRUTE Gunner muttered. "Floppy pink and green balloons should NOT clank."

"The island is a MAGICAL place!" Nite Nite giggled, the eyes of his mask swirling. "ANYTHING is possible here! We can all FLOAT..."

BRUTE Gunner grimaced. "You just quit that Steven King shit RIGHT NOW and..." she trailed off, hearing something. The telltale ringing sound of a chest. And from Nite Nite's reaction, suddenly pausing, she could tell he heard it too. Both of them bolted for it, heading into the nearby grove. BRUTE Gunner reached it first, yanking the golden, shining treasure chest open and scooping up all the weapons and ammo as Nite Nite arrived, including three grenades, three small shield potions, a gray-ranked pistol, and a green pump-action shotgun. She whirled around and aimed the shotgun right at the clown's face as he came up to her.

"...Well, phooey," Nite Nite said, sounding more amused than anything else.

BRUTE Gunner grinned. "Nighty night," she said, shooting the clown in the face. Nite Nite staggered, falling to his hands and knees. "Right, gotta do this twice in team modes," BRUTE Gunner said, shooting him in the head again as he crawled away, Nite Nite dissolving into a cloud of white data as his virtual body was destroyed, the device generating his virtual body flying back to Home Island. BRUTE Gunner sighed in relief, and ran over to where BRUTE Navigator was still dueling with Peekaboo.

The clown girl had him on the ground, pressing her pickaxe handle down on his throat, BRUTE Navigator barely holding her back. Peekaboo threw her head back and laughed crazily as she tried to eliminate BRUTE Navigator, clearly enjoying the fight.

BRUTE Gunner ran up to Peekaboo and kicked her in the chest, sending the clown girl sprawling. She yelped, and tried to bring her pickaxe to bear, but BRUTE Gunner was faster, leaping atop her and shooting her point blank in the chest with the shotgun. With a sound like a rubber duck squeaking, Peekaboo was eliminated, dissolving into white light as the device generating the virtual body flew back to Home Island.

"Thanks," BRUTE Navigator said, getting up. "That girl was nuts."

BRUTE Gunner tossed him the pistol and one of the shield potions. She kept two for herself and drank them, a blue light appearing around her body briefly as she finished them off. "Huh. Tastes like fruit punch."

"Mine tastes like whiskey," BRUTE Navigator said. "That good stuff we had in Jersey before the… well, the Instance."

BRUTE Gunner shivered softly as memories of screaming and roaring undead passed through her head briefly. "Well, that's a good way to encourage people to go for shields. Make them taste like things we like to drink," she said. "Anyway, let's mount up. We got a royale to win."

BRUTE Navigator grinned. "You got it," he said. The two went over to the mech, BRUTE Navigator getting in the lower seat with the legs, while BRUTE Gunner climbed up into the main body, powering up the auto shotgun and the rocket launcher, a shield appearing around her cockpit. "Let's rock!" BRUTE Navigator called out.

"Let's show this island how mech fighters win!" BRUTE Gunner crowed.

BRUTE. The Battle Ready Utility & Tactical Equipment. A mecha with several interchangeable arm attachments for various jobs, generally used as heavy security. Gunner and Navigator both were extremely skilled in using the BRUTEs, choosing to have their roles in using the mech as their callsigns for the Battle Royale. They both worked for Adventure International, the expedition team that Lynx and Zenith both worked for, but hadn't been trapped in a Storm Instance until recently.

Dr. Vinderman had approved the mechs for use in the Battle Royale, much to their delight, and now they had a change to show off their skills. BRUTE Navigator began walking through the farm, making the mech's feet stomp, destroying buildings and the wheatfield growing there.

"Any reason you're tearing up the landscape?" BRUTE Gunner asked.

"Wanted to check something," BRUTE Navigator said. "And it works. Stomping with the mech acts like the pickaxes do and harvests the breakable stuff."

"Nice!" BRUTE Gunner said. "Once you have a good chunk of stuff let me save some!"

The two BRUTE pilots tore the farm apart, briefly leaving their mech to give each other building material. They got back in and started tromping towards the first safe zone, occasionally boosters to shoot the mech forward as they moved.

The storm traveled slowly, the duo making their way slowly inward. They encountered a few times along the way, but aside from a pair of snipers camping in the trees and taking potshots at BRUTE Gunner, the sheer firepower and armor of the mech overwhelmed everyone. And even the two snipers fell once BRUTE Gunner targeted them with her missile barrage.

"Run! RUN!" BRUTE Gunner cackled as she blasted a fleeing soccer player with her shotgun. The two had just destroyed a bunch of other soccer players before that, catching them from behind with a missile barrage that had eliminated all but the one. And that last one went down quickly enough.

BRUTE Navigator shook his head, stomping on some boulders to harvest them. "Chill, Helen," he said, laughing. "Sounding mighty maniacal there."

"I can't help it!" BRUTE Gunner said. "I LOVE the BRUTE's combat function!"

"Heh. Well, don't get too full of yourself," BRUTE Navigator said. "There's still professional soldiers here. We're just a private security team."

"And we've been ganking those professional soldiers this whole time! WOOO!" BRUTE Gunner crowed.

BRUTE Navigator shook his head, moving on with the mech. As they headed for the safe ring, BRUTE Gunner began looking around. "Y'know, it's really a shame..." she said.

"What is?" BRUTE Navigator asked, keeping watch for snipers. His pilot cockpit didn't have the shield BRUTE Gunner's did.

"This place… It's actually kinda pretty!" BRUTE Gunner said.

BRUTE Navigator blinked, looking up at her. "...The woman who was gleefully firing rockets everywhere not an hour earlier is admiring the landscape."

"Just because I'm blowing the shit out of the place doesn't mean I can't appreciate it," BRUTE Gunner said. "Wanna try landing on the meteor next time? I heard this one samurai-looking chick say that gravity was weird on it."

BRUTE Navigator turned, looking up at the meteor frozen in the sky, on the verge of crashing into a series of factories. "...Eh, maybe. Fun as the BRUTE is, we don't have to use it every round."

"Bite your tongue, George," BRUTE Gunner said, amused.

BRUTE Navigator laughed. The two stomped on, eventually making their way to the nearest town on the massive island, Salty Springs. And while there were signs of battle there, houses harvested for materials and structures built up, what they saw going on surprised them.

Absolutely nothing even resembling a battle.

Three contestants were having a build battle, but instead of trying to shoot each other they seemed to be making sculptures. The basketball players were facing off with a couple pirates in a basketball game, using the hoop in the driveway of one of the houses as their goal. The golf player and the tennis player were discussing the merits of their respective sports while sitting on a car, and a woman in a pink teddy bear outfit, complete with mascot mask, was apparently having a dance contest with a black woman in a t-shirt resembling a golden disco ball. A man in a flight jacket and a yellow balaclava was chatting with a man in a fox mask and yellow-and-black coat, looking rather fretful. It took the two BRUTE pilots a moment to remember their names, Raptor and Drift respectively.

"So we've decided to leave Gunner at home instead of taking him into the contests," Raptor said. "The poor dear's actually scared to death of gunfire."

Drift winced. "And considering that's half of what's going on here..."

"Yeah," Raptor said. "It's better for the little fella."

"WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THIS!?" BRUTE Navigator ended up shouting, startling everyone. The pirate holding the basketball ended up fumbling her toss so badly that the ball bounced off the of the rim and hit her in the face, her partner laughing at her.

"...What is what?" Drift asked, visibly confused.

"Why are you all just playing around?!" BRUTE Gunner shouted. "This is a freaking Battle Royale!"

"That takes all day," said Raptor. "Doesn't mean we have to fight all the time."

"But you're just messing around!" BRUTE Navigator said, clearly not getting it. "You're not doing anything!"

Jumpshot, the male basketball player, frowned at her. "We havin' fun," he said. "Ain't that all that matters?"

"Yeah, don't be such a tryhard!" Triple Threat, the female basketball player, said.

"What, so in a Battle Royale, people just fuck around doing things other than fighting?" BRUTE Gunner asked, confused.

A woman with pink hair, a blue outfit, and a torn shirt with a unicorn-horned llama on it slid into few, followed soon after by a cheerful, dark-skinned man with blonde hair and a shirt with a picture of a teddy bear wielding two assault rifles.

"Hiiii!" said the woman in a cheerful voice. "I'm Brite Bomber, and this is my big brother, Brite Gunner!"

"We're the Sunshine and Rainbows team. Sorry we missed greeting you properly!" Brite Gunner said.

"We're kind of the unofficial welcome committee, doin' our best to make everyone on the island feel welcome, that sort of thing!" Brite Bomber said cheerfully.

"...Where the hell were you just a moment ago?" BRUTE Navigator said. He hadn't seen either of them at all. Even with the top of the BRUTE blocking him from seeing above him, BRUTE Gunner should have seen them…

"We're sneaky," Brite Gunner said, grinning. "Anyway. I know its thrilling, getting to fight in a battle where no one actually dies, but you have to understand, a lot of us have been doing this for a while now. Because the storm takes a full day to close in, sometimes longer, that leaves us a lot of free time!"

"That's right," Brite Bomber said. "So why not just make friends and have fun! No one really takes the fight seriously until the final safe zones anyway. Even the actual soldiers!"

"Except the soccer team," Jumpshot muttered.

"Aye," said Buccaneer, the female pirate. "I did'nae even know what the term tryhard meant until we met those ruddy bastards." Her partner, Sea Wolf, nodded grumpily.

"We nuked a bunch of soccer players earlier. They didn't seem that tough," BRUTE Gunner said.

Most of the competitors there laughed, pleased that the soccer team had already been beaten. Brite Bomber giggled. "Okay, that actually will get you a lot of favor that you took them out early. But still. Guys. RELAX!"

BRUTE Navigator scowled. "Geez. I didn't realize things were so goddamn casual here. It's freakin' stupid."

BRUTE Gunner nodded. "Seriously. You call it 'tryharding,' we call it 'playing to win,'" she said.

Brite Gunner shook his head. Brite Bomber sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with one hand. "Okay. Obviously, you have an opinion on how things should go," she said. She looked up again, smirking. "You wanna try hard? Then let's TRY HARD." Before BRUTE Navigator could react, Brite Bomber pulled out a rainbow-colored Desert Eagle, firing the powerful handgun right into his face. He felt the bullet impact his skull, his vision fading as his virtual body dissolved in a cloud of white.

"Whoa, wait, WHAT!?" BRUTE Gunner shouted, confused. She tried to bring the BRUTE's powerful weapons to bear, but Brite Gunner jumped into the mobility cockpit of the mech and triggered its self destruct, he and her sister laughing as they ran into a house and hid.

BRUTE Gunner, her jaw dropped, just watching as the BRUTE burst into flames. The mech exploded, BRUTE Gunner vanishing in a swirl of white. And as if nothing had happened, everyone in Salty went back to what they were doing, the Brite siblings joining the basketball game.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Home Island…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

BRUTE Gunner gasped as awareness returned to her body. She quickly pushed open her Storm Pod, sitting up quickly and catching her breath. She hadn't felt the pain of the explosion, but still, the impact was enough to unsettle her.

Standing next to her pod was BRUTE Navigator, Zenith, and Lynx, the latter leaning on BRUTE Gunner's pod with a smirk on her face.

"..." BRUTE Gunner said, frowning. She removed her helmet and sighed. "...Okay. So maybe things are more casual than we thought."

"Aaand we kinda acted like jerks back there," BRUTE Navigator added, looking sheepish.

Zenith just smirked, holding out his hand. Lynx rolled her eyes, pulled out her wallet, and gave her boyfriend a twenty Vbuck bill. "What have we learned?" Lynx asked.

"...That we don't have to take everything seriously," BRUTE Gunner said.

"And to be respectful when someone's trying to be nice to us," BRUTE Navigator added.

Lynx chuckled. Zenith smiled. "The Brites are fairly easygoing," he said. "They've most likely already forgiven you."

"I'm still not sure what we're supposed to do, though," BRUTE Gunner said. "If we're not there to fight."

"Oh, you're there to fight," Lynx said. "You just don't have to. Just relax, and don't talk down anyone who's trying to have fun."

"Yeah, I guess..." BRUTE Gunner said after a moment, BRUTE Navigator nodding in agreement.

Zenith helped BRUTE Gunner out of her pod. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go get a pizza."

"And I'll show you guys how to access your toy menu," Lynx said.

"Toy menu?" BRUTE Navigator asked.

Lynx chuckled. "Where do you think they got that basketball?" she asked, the four of them walking off into the business district.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two days later…

Lobby Island...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Brite Bomber pouted, snuggling up to Drift. "Sucks that we have to fight..." she said, pulling her boyfriend's kitsune mask up and pecking him on the cheek. "Wish we could partner more..."

"I know, I know," Drift said, sighing and kissing her back. "Especially after finding out that Catalyst is our daughter from the future..."

Brite Bomber sighed. "Time travel is confusing..."

Drift started to say something else, when a snowball hit him in the face. Slowly, he and Brite Bomber turned.

BRUTE Gunner and BRUTE Navigator were there. BRUTE Gunner was dusting snow off of her hands, while BRUTE Navigator was tossing a snowball up and down.

"We got time before the bus deploys," BRUTE Navigator said. "Feel like a quick snowball fight?"

A slow grin came over Brite Bomber's face as Drift smirked, pulling his mask back into place as pink lightning began flowing from his eyes. "You wanna play, kids?" Brite Bomber asked, silently pleased that the two of them were being more relaxed.

"Why not?" BRUTE Gunner said, calling up a new snowball from her VR body's toy menu. "We're playing a game. Might as well have fun with it."

Brite Bomber nodded in approval. "Good," she said, calling up a snowball herself. "Then let's play."

_**THE END**_


	8. We Remain

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 8: We Remain**_

_**by Jonathan "KnightMysterio" Spires**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Vindertech Labs…

Security Room…

Four months after the start of the games...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dr. Vinderman, surrounded by his primary strike team, stared at the two black-clad figures tied to chairs in the security room. One was male with a black feathery cloak, a hood covering his face and leaving only glowing white eyes visible. He wore a black trenchcoat, pants, gloves, and boots, and a cage of sorts on his back. The other was female, who wore a full head mask that left only her glowing white eyes bare, a black skirt and tunic with too many black straps across it, and a bird-like crest on her head, a trio of black feathers extending from it. A pair of black wings emerged from her back. Inside, a little robot with small arms flitted about, checking their restraints. The eyes of the two tied of figures followed her, the robot trying to ignore their unsettling gaze.

"Took us way too long to wrangle them," Jonesy said, the blond soldier standing behind Dr. Vinderman as he stared into the security room.

"They were toying with us," Ramirez said with irritation. "I swear they waited until we were right on them to teleport."

"We got them now, though," Wildcat said, the redheaded soldier nodding in satisfaction as she leaned against the door to the security room. "Ambushed the buggers before they could get away."

"Not so sure about that, amiga," Hawk said, the tall Latino soldier frowning.

"Enough," Dr. Vinderman said. "We are here to question them." The chatter died down. Dr. Vinderman sighed, stroking his mustache and sitting down at the communications monitor. He spoke into the microphone. "Testing. Testing. Ray, can you hear me?"

The little robot nodded. "Yes sir, Dr. Vinderman!" she said. "We are ready to proceed with the interrogation!"

Dr. Vinderman nodded. "Raven. Ravage. Do you understand why you are here?"

Both dark figures turned, staring at Dr. Vinderman through the one way glass window. The nine people in the monitor room shivered softly, unable to escape the feeling that they were looking right at them. But other than that, there was no response.

"..." Dr. Vinderman closed his eyes, took a breath, and continued. "...You both are suspected of committing murders on the mainland. Black feathers, similar to the ones on your outfits, were found at each scene. Some victims were killed via shooting from what police believe to be a pair of FNX-9 pistols, weapons you are known to favor, Raven. There were also victims killed showing injuries that greatly resemble your harvesting tool, the Iron Beak."

Raven said nothing, turning to Ravage. She stared back at her partner, the two seemingly communicating worldlessly. Then they turned back, going back to staring.

"This is getting nowhere..." Renegade muttered, the Asian man shaking his head and coughing.

"I swear they're smiling," Headhunter said, the ponytailed woman scowling. She coughed as well.

Dr. Vinderman continued the interrogation. "We know you both left Home Island days before the murders happened. Evidence is linking you both to the murders. Before I turn you into the police, I want to know why."

"..." Raven and Ravage both stared at Dr. Vinderman for a long moment. Renegade and Headhunter both coughed again, more violently this time.

"Are you all right?" Spitfire asked.

Banshee nodded, the dark-skinned woman frowning. "Yeah, you're not looking too good."

"It's fine," Renegade said. "Air's dry in here." He and Headhunter both coughed again, almost wheezing.

"Raven… I know you and Ravage are behind the murders..." Dr. Vinderman said. "Why? Why do this? We were allies in the other timeline, where we're trying to save the world from the storm. Why are things different now?"

"You thought…" Raven said, all the men looking up in surprise as they heard their own voice coming out of the dark creature's unseen mouth, "...we were allies?"

"...Weren't we?" Dr. Vinderman asked, confused.

Raven narrowed his eyes, as Ravage closed hers and began to laugh, each woman in the room hearing their own voice. Headhunter and Renegade started coughing violently, staggering to their hands and knees and vomiting up black feathers.

"You fix this right now ye bastards!" Wildcat shouted, aiming her pistol at the security window. "Whatever yuir doing t'them you stop it RIGHT NOW!"

The bonds holding Raven and Ravage dissolved in a cloud of black feathers. Headhunter and Renegade were both choking now, their mouths filled with black feathers. The others were trying to clear their throats, doing anything they could to save them. Raven stepped towards the window, Ravage still laughing.

"We were… never allies," Raven said. "The Storm in that reality took Ravage from me… Our alliance there was one of convenience. Here? My beloved is with me. _I have no reason to cooperate with you at all._"

"Then why!?" Dr. Vinderman demanded. "Why do all this!?"

Behind him, Headhunter and Renegade both died, necks swollen and choked with black feathers. Ravage's eyes flashed, and Jonesy's eyes went dull and lifeless. He withdrew his own sidearm, and shot Wildcat in the head, the shocked Irishwoman dropping to the floor as her forehead exploded in red.

Spitfire and Hawk both tackled Jonesy, trying to hold the brainwashed soldier down. But Ravage's eyes flashed again, and Banshee drew a combat knife, charging Hawk and jamming it in his face. The dark-skinned woman smiled dully, turning her sidearm on Spitfire, but Ramirez shot her in the knees, staggering her. The Latina soldier then kicked Banshee in the face, but Banshee grabbed her by the boot and tried to bite through her leg. Ramirez was forced to shoot Banshee in the head to stop her. This allowed Jonesy, still under mind control, to shoot Spitfire in the face. He then tackled Ramirez, trying to strangle her, Ramirez barely able to keep Jonesy's hands from around her throat.

Dr. Vinderman watched all of this in horror. Raven chuckled darkly. "Because I want to..." he said simply.

"...Because you _WANT TOO?_!" Dr. Vinderman exclaimed, horrified.

"Didn't you just say that?" Ravage asked, amused.

"Please, let Jonesy go!" Dr. Vinderman pleaded. "You've done enough! PLEASE!"

"No," Raven said. There was the echoing sound of bullets firing. Dr. Vinderman turned, and saw Ramirez pulling herself out from underneath Jonesy's body. Tears were in her eyes as she looked at the body of her dead friend, scanning over the room.

"...He's gone," she said softly. Her body was stained with blood as her agonized gaze looked over the corpses of her longtime friends and teammates. "They're all… gone..."

"And wouldn't it be nice to be with them again?" Ravage asked, Raven chuckling.

"...Yes," Ramirez said, pointing her gun at her head.

"NO!" Dr. Vinderman screamed. But he was too late to stop her, Ramirez pulling the trigger and collapsing as red sprayed across the room. The grieving scientist, in a fury, turned back to Raven and Ravage… but as he turned, things changed.

The security room, the very base around them was gone, replaced by a pit of stone, caves everywhere. Above him, purple, unholy clouds filled the sky, raining lightning down as the things in the caves cowered in fear.

"What… what happened?!" Dr. Vinderman asked, confused and frightened. He looked up at the top of the pit… and screamed. A pair of giant ravens were at the top of it, staring right down into Dr. Vinderman's eyes.

"You have no idea what we are," Raven said directly in Dr. Vinderman's brain.

"You have no idea how long we have existed," Ravage added.

"You are nothing to us. Playthings. PREY. And there is nothing you can do to stop us," they said as one. And then they began to sing, their voices interspersed with a third, almost demonic voice..."

"No more light…

Drown in depths of night…

In time you all shall learn…

Death shall rise…

Ash fills the skies…

As all you know will burn…

Countless fruitless days…

For the future refused to change…

And here…

We remain…

We remain…

_**W̢̨͞É͞ ̷̛́͠R͢E͏̴͟͡M͏̴͝A̢̛͞I҉̸̀N̕҉̸̧̛!͘̕͞!̶͘͢͢!̴̴̷̡ "**_

As they sang, the scene changed. From primordial caverns, to a ruined viking village, to burned castle in feudal Japan, to 1860s New York, to modern day, to the blasted remains of a futuristic city, to a ruined earth heading towards a void. And in each era, there was the Storm and the ravens. On the final words of the song, the voices of Raven and Ravage drowned out by the third, both ravens dove down towards Dr. Vinderman, claws outstretched. Vinderman screamed, feeling talons and beaks tearing into him…

...and fell out of his chair.

"Dr. Vinderman?!" Jonesy asked, concerned, as he and Ramirez helped their employer up.

"Wha… Where'd they go?!" Renegade asked.

"We were looking at them!" Headhunter insisted. "No one was blinking! They can't have just vanished."

Inside the security room, Raven and Ravage were gone, only a single black feather on each chair. All the monitors were glitching out, showing nothing but pictures of ravens.

Dr. Vinderman shook his head. "I fear… I fear we have badly underestimated them..." he said, heart racing from what he had just experienced. He looked around, seeing all of his soldiers alive, silently grateful that what he saw was just an illusion.

Banshee frowned. "...Then what are we supposed to do about them?" she asked.

"...Keep them entertained," Dr. Vinderman said, "so that they feel no need to leave the Islands. I think it is time to start changing the rules of the games periodically… Maybe switch out weapons and items every so often..."

The soldiers all looked at their employer in shock. "...Seriously?" Spitfire said. "That's ALL we're gonna do?"

"I fear," Dr. Vinderman said, "that Raven and Ravage are creatures that no mortal man can defeat. That they have participated in the games simply because it is something interesting to do." He looked to Ramirez. "You said it yourself. They were simply waiting until you got close before teleporting away."

"...Yes, I did say that," Ramirez said, frowning.

"What about the warrants out for them?" Wildcat asked. "What do we tell the bloody cops?"

"That if they do not want their people to die, then leave them to us," Dr. Vinderman said. "If they want to try arresting them, that's their responsibility. I won't be the one to let people die fruitlessly."

"...Doctor, what happened?" Jonesy asked. "What happened just now?"

"...A revelation of horrors to come," Dr. Vinderman said softly.

_**THE END**_

_Author's note: Credit to Man On The Internet for the song lyrics, from the song Lavos (Reprise). Go give their stuff a listen on Youtube. It's great!_


	9. The Leftovers

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 9: The Leftovers**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Another world…

Ruins…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The world was broken. The Storm had claimed almost all sapient life on Earth. The only reason there was any life at all is because the monsters spawned from the purple, roiling clouds that covered the planet didn't seem interested in anything that couldn't think. Monsters that only looked human roamed the land, some skinny and skeletal, some obese and hulking, all of them wandering aimlessly until they found human life.

Purple crystal spires, runes flowing over them, were everywhere, jutting out of the landscape in random intervals. Sometimes a new one would form from a lightning strike. From these obelisks, the creatures spawned. An endless wave of death, that none could stop.

None save for the group of four currently tearing their way through the remains of the city.

Their vehicle was a repurposed school bus, blue in coloring, with a battering ram and barbed wire on the front. In the center there was a mounted turret with high caliber ammo that could raise up to give covering fire. Inside the bus were the last four surviving humans on Earth.

All of them were clad in armored gear that was partially military, armored vests, boots, and pads, and part makeshift costume, including a helmet lined with glow-in-the-dark tape and paint on the faces. Each one of them used a codename, an online alias they used before everything went to Hell.

Ragsy was the only female of the bunch. She wore a tattered bear costume with her military gear that left her midriff exposed. Sheathed at her hips were a pair of dual scythes that had a small Durr Burger and Tomatohead mascot head mounted on each handle, under the blade. Her helmet was a teddy bear head, her outfit dirty and musty. She was currently firing an assault rifle out a side window, popping several fiends in the head as they passed.

Next to her was a hulking man in a colorful, but faded outfit underneath his military armor. A horned, blue llama mascot head served as his helmet, and a rainbow-colored shield was on his back. A razor-edged toy riding llama, bearing a unicorn-esque horn like his costume, was holstered behind his shield. This was Bash, and he was the heavy gunner of the team. He was braced by the back door, firing a minigun to destroy the fiends that were chasing after the bus.

Across from Ragsy was an armored man in a Pizza Pit mascot uniform. He wore a Tomatohead mask, and was tossing grenades out of his window. Sheathed on his back, behind his makeshift communicator, was a giant pizza slicer with a spiked cover. His name was Hothouse, and he was the chief technician of the small group of survivors.

The overall leader of the group, Gutbomb, wore a Durr Burger mascot universe, his burger-head tattered and faded in color. Laying next to him was a giant spatula wrapped in barbed wire. He drove the bus, plowing through fiends, smirking underneath his mask as he watched them vanish in clouds of purple smoke. But even with his pleasure at destroying the fiends, there was a growing feeling of unease in all of them.

Their mission today had been to get ammo, fuel, water, and food. And it had failed utterly.

"We're almost out of their detection range!" Hothouse shouted.

"Choose your shots, people!" Gutbomb shouted. "We don't have ammo to spare right now!"

"Just hold on!" Ragsy shouted. "We're almost home!"

The bus tore its way through the horde of zombie-like fiends, finally breaking away and getting onto a highway. The four inside started to relax, Gutbomb keeping an eye on the road while Hothouse, Ragsy, and Bash sat down, looking at each other sadly.

"...Well," Hothouse said after a long moment. "That could have gone better."

"No food, no water, no ammo, no fuel..." Ragsy said sadly. "We didn't get anything..."

Bash clutched his fists tightly. "I'm so sorry, everyone… I'm so damn clumsy… If I hadn't alerted the horde by knocking over those cans, we could have gotten the supplies..."

"No one's blaming you, Bash," Ragsy said, going over and hugging her teammate.

"That's right, big guy. Could have happened to any of us," Hothouse said.

"There wasn't any supplies to begin with," Gutbomb said bitterly. "It was a trap."

The other three looked up at Gutbomb, confused. "What are you talking about? How could it have been a trap? The only reason we were there is because it was someplace new to check," Hothouse said.

Gutbomb scowled beneath his mask. "Right. A warehouse facility that we hadn't notice on our previous excursions into the city. Pallets of paint cans arranged in a way so that they'd be in our way AND be stacked loosely enough to make a big noise when they fell. And you can't tell me that you all didn't notice the pink..."

A horrified thought occurred to the rest of the group inside the bus. "Noshes? Are you sure?" Ragsy asked softly.

"I thought it was just pink paint," Bash said nervously, the hulking man fidgeting. "From survivors who didn't make it..."

"Nope," Gutbomb said. "It was definitely Noshes. Those damn, flesh-eating pink blobs were everywhere. And guess who was leading them?"

"...No," Hothouse said. "She's dead. She has to be."

Ragsy slumped in her chair. "Jawbreaker… So she has betrayed us..."

"Jawbreaker didn't betray us," Hothouse insisted. "She died! Willow attacked her. You all saw it!"

Bash shook his head. "Willow snaps necks, or fills people up with that black goo she's made of. She don't drag them off," the big llama-masked man said.

Hothouse yanked his mask off, revealing the dirt and tear-stained face of a tired-looking Asian man, desperation on his gaunt, lined face. "It's not her! It can't be!" he said.

Ragsy removed her mask, revealing a short-haired light-skinned black woman, her face slightly skeletal from starvation. "Hothouse… I know it's hard to believe, but Jawbreaker turned on us. She sold us out weeks ago to the Chaos Agent..."

"BULLSHIT!" Hothouse screamed. "I don't believe it! Jawbreaker and I, we had something special! Plus, she's human! She'd never sell out to the Storm King's monsters!"

"M'man," Bash said, pulling off his mask, revealing a pale-skinned man with a thick beard. Like Ragsy, he was showing the early signs of starvation, none of the four of them having eaten in two weeks. "It's the only explanation for why that raid on the prison facility went bad, why we weren't able to save those survivors..."

"NO!" Hothouse said, stomping to the other end of the bus. He sat down, staring out the window, tuning out both Ragsy and Bash as they tried to talk to him.

"Let him go," Gutbomb said. "We've got to plan what to do next..."

"Not much we can do," Ragsy said. "We've only got so much food and water left. Then we starve..."

Gutbomb nodded. "I know. And I don't know about you, but I have no intention of just sitting around and starving. Even if we accomplish nothing, I say we go out with a bang. Let them know that humanity's presence meant something."

Ragsy and Bash looked at each other. "...Go out swinging?" Bash said, chuckling. "Hell, I'm all for that."

Ragsy fistbumped him. "Amen, big man," she said.

"...Fine," Hothouse said.

Gutbomb nodded. The raven-haired man smiled underneath his mask. "Good. Okay. Once we get back, we'll load up on what supplies we have left and charge straight at Storm King's lair. We may not do any damage, but we'll be the ones… deciding… our..."

All three of the passengers noticed Gutbomb trailing off. They turned and went up front to ask what was wrong, when they saw the problem.

All along the road were orange corpse-flowers, lining the path back to their supposedly hidden headquarters. Bouncing along the road were Noshes, the pink slimes gnashing their teeth at the bus but not leaping at it, letting them drive by.

"...It has been an honor fighting by your side," Gutbomb said quietly, realizing that they were about to die. "Drag as many of these things down to Hell as you can before you fall."

The other three put their masks back on, nodding, and went to their weapons. Gutbomb grabbed his barbed wire wrapped spatula-axe as he drove down the last few miles to their headquarters.

What they saw at the front gate made Hothouse's heart sink. "No… Nonononononono..." Hothouse groaned.

"Sorry man," Bash said, patting his comrade's shoulder.

Standing at the front gate, wielding a pair of knives with pink slime on them, was Jawbreaker, their former teammate. The woman wore black camo shorts and thigh-high stockings, as well as black sneakers and a black armored tank-top and gloves. Her skin was ghostly pale, with black tattoos on her forearms, and on her head was a pair of glasses and a headset. She smirked at her former comrades.

"Hey," Jawbreaker said. "We've been expecting you."

"...I've missed you," Hothouse said into the bus's megaphone.

Jawbreaker nodded. "If it helps? It was never personal. You were a nice guy, great in bed and all, but I wanted to survive. And no matter how good y'all were at getting supplies and shit, there was no way that humanity was going to survive this."

"And so you sold your soul to the Storm King," Gutbomb said, taking the megaphone from Hothouse.

"Pretty much," Jawbreaker said. "Like I said, nothing personal. You guys were just the price for my life." She opened the gate, and gestured inside, a Nosh hopping up onto her shoulder and nuzzling her affectionately. "C'mon! Catrina's really made the place look good." Jawbreaker strode inside, whistling.

"Ram her," Hothouse muttered bitterly.

"Not yet," Gutbomb said quietly. "We may need the bus still..."

"Whatever..." Hothouse muttered, clutching at his spiked pizza cutter-axe. The bus slowly drove inside the base. Around them, Noshes hopped among the orange corpse-flowers that covered most of the base's buildings. Vines grew up around the water tower, almost empty, and the armory had a tree with the orange corpse flowers growing through it.

And in the center training yard of the base, standing around the flagpole, were the rest of their enemies.

One looked like a ghost straight out of Japanese folklore, with a ragged dress and pale, corpse gray skin, her hair oily black, a dark, oozing substance dripping from her hands and feet. From bangs that covered her face, one eye stared hatefully at them.

"Willow," Bash said hatefully, glaring at the living doll. The ghost giggled softly, her voice echoing.

"Hi Bash..." Willow said. "Wanna play with me? Your friends didn't want to play..."

Bash growled, remembering the friends she lost to the doll-turned-ghost. "There's a reason nobody ever wanted to play with you when you were just a toy, you creepy little bitch," Bash muttered.

Another appeared to be a skeletal woman with a gray dress, dark pants and boots, and nun's hood. Her bony face was painted, and her spine was spiky, emerging from her back. Orange flowers lined her body, and she glared hatefully at the bus, her face bones shifting to show her disgust. "Weeds in the garden," she rasped.

"Love you too, Catrina," Ragsy muttered.

Next to Catrina was a humanoid creature with pegs for legs, wearing a black and white striped prisoner uniform. Its head was that of a large Nosh, a pink slime with a tooth-filled mouth. It wielded a scythe made from a modified power drill with a Nosh stuck to the blunt end of it, the bipedal slime gnashing its teeth at them.

"Damn it," Gutbomb said. "A Teef." A Teef, conglomeration of Nosh slimes that merged to become a deadly warrior. "This won't be easy..."

Sitting on top of a shipping crate was a figure who looked to be simply a human in a purple hoodie, gloves, and mask, dark-brown skin visible from the gloves wrists. But the dark glow emanating from the creature, as well as the glowing wings emerging from its back gave it away as inhuman. This was Blacklight, a grim reaper. Just seeing him filled the four with dread, as the silent creature had slaughtered many humans just on his own.

And finally, emerging from the darkness was a tall, lanky man in a dark business suit, gloved hands bearing only three fingers each. On his back was a tanker of oily substance, similar to the ooze on Willow's hands and feet. The substance was fed through a pair of tubes into a gas mask that completely covered the man's head.

"Chaos Agent..." Hothouse said softly at the sight of the creature. "So this really is the end..."

Chaos Agent chuckled, his voice deep and as oily as the ooze flowing through him. "Welcome! Welcome home! You are actually a little early. We planned to make you a cake. And if the fact that Ragsy's ribs are starting to show is any indication, I think you all need it."

Ragsy grimaced beneath her mask. Her abs were muscular, but the lack of food was starting to make her ribs visible above them. One by one, the last four members of the human race stepped out of the bus, weapons at the ready as they faced down six of humanity's greatest foes.

Jawbreaker, smirking, took her place by the side of her comrades. "It's over," she said. "You tried, but you failed. There's no one left in the world but you."

"The Storm King has claimed this world, as he has claimed so many others," Chaos Agent said. "All are consumed or are his servants. And it his through his grace that he allows us to make this offer – join us."

"You've got to be kidding!" Bash said, brandishing his llama-axe. "Become freaks like you?"

"Becoming strong," Jawbreaker said. "I'm powerful now. For the first time in my life, I'm strong!" She chuckled. "Hell, I just wanted to kill you idiots and be done with it, but Chaos Agent insists on making the offer every damn time."

"Mostly? It's about the reactions I get," Chaos Agent admitted. "Everyone reacts to salvation through the Storm in different ways. It's fascinating, really..."

"Why?" Hothouse asked. "Why betray us like this?"

Jawbreaker snorted. "You can't really betray someone you were never loyal to, Hothouse. I only fought because I hadn't gotten a better offer. Then I did." She grinned, her eyes glowing pink. "Now I'll live forever. Raging with the Storm."

Catrina, her skeletal face showing an expression of pity, stepped forward. "Children..." she said. "Why let yourselves suffer so? Accept the Storm King's mercy. Be a blossom, like Jawbreaker. Not a filthy weed."

"It has to be better than starving to death, at least," Chaos Agent said. "Only chance, folks."

"You really don't want Blacklight to stand up, now do you?" Willow said, giggling shrilly. From where he sat, Blacklight's eyes glowed as he kept close watch on the four of them.

Gutbomb looked back, and saw that his teammates were hesitating, unsure of what to do. He sighed. "...If you want to accept his offer, then do so. I won't think less of you for wanting to survive. But I'm going to turn it down. I refuse to be a slave of the Storm King."

"...We're with you, boss man," Bash said.

"To the end," Ragsy added, nodding.

Hothouse hesitated a moment, staring at Jawbreaker, and nodded. "To the end," he said, resolving to go down fighting.

"Finally," Jawbreaker said, grinning viciously and brandishing her knives. Teef stepped up behind her, grinning widely as he brought his drill-scythe to bear.

Blacklight's eyes flared with excitement. A purple scythe appeared in his hands as he jumped down off of the storage container he was sitting on. Willow giggled madly, the black, oily ooze surrounding her hands swelling up and forming a scythe.

Catrina shook her head as a pair of bone sickles lined with orange corpse flowers formed in her hands. "Children. Why let yourselves be weeds? You are merely the leftovers of a failed people," she said in her soft, motherly voice.

"Leftovers indeed," Chaos Agent said, visibly amused despite his gas mask lacking the ability to emote, forming a scythe similar to Willow's in his three-fingered hand. "And its time to clean the refrigerator."

"I dunno," Gutbomb said. "My mother could always make a pretty damn good casserole out of leftovers."

"You're all still just food for the Storm," Jawbreaker said, pointing one of her knives at them. "Leftovers, like Catrina said!" By her side, Teef nodded in agreement, chuckling.

"Better leftovers than trash," Hothouse muttered.

"Ha! You tell her, Hothouse!" Bash shouted.

"We may be doomed, but we're going out fighting," Ragsy proclaimed.

"So do your worst!" Gutbomb shouted. "These leftovers are going down _hard_!"

Chaos Agent tapped his scythe on his shoulder idly, looking thoughtful. "...You know what? I can respect that. It won't save you, but I can respect that. _Kill them,_" he said.

Eyes glowing eagerly, Blacklight stepped ahead of his comrades, wings flaring as he prepared to do just that, the others brandishing their weapons as well. The newly named Leftovers all brandished their weapons, prepared to face their final reckoning against the forces of the Storm King.

Which is when the crystal shards started to form around them.

"What… What's going on!?" Bash asked, the Leftovers gathering together as more and more shards started to appear, encircling the humans.

Jawbreaker frowned. "Are one of you doing this?" she asked, confused. Teef tried to poke one of the shards, but it exploded, knocking the humanoid blob monster off of his feet.

"No..." Chaos Agent said, staring at the shards. "I don't…" He trailed off, not understanding.

"It feels… odd…" Catrina said, staring in fascination.

"Wait, you're not lying?!" Ragsy said. "None of you are doing this?!"

"Guys," Hothouse said, the communicator pack on his back blaring static. "Something's happening, I feel..."

Blacklight's eyes widened in sudden shock, his wings flapping as he dashed forward, brandishing his scythe. But as he brought down his weapon to strike Gutbomb, the closest, the Leftovers vanished. Blacklight's swing missed, the reaper stumbling and falling on his face.

The six gathered in the base of humanity's last remnants stared at where their prey had been just moments before, confused. After a moment, Willow threw up her hands excitedly, tossing her scythe away, the scythe vanishing in a splat of black goo.

"Yay, we won!" Willow proclaimed, looking around at the others. "Right?" After an awkward moment, she put her hands down.

"They're gone..." Catrina said, visibly confused. "I… I cannot see them anywhere in the world… My flowers cannot sense them..."

Purple lightning struck down near them, all six flinching in fear.

"I don't get it," Jawbreaker said, looking around. "We wanted them gone, right? Feels like a win to me." She shrieked as purple lightning slammed down next to her, making her stumble and fall over.

Teef growled worriedly, crawling back over to the group.

Chaos Agent looked up into the sky, seeing a pair of demonic horns and glowing eyes in the seething clouds that covered the Earth entirely. "Yes, yes, my lord. I know, we'll find them," he said nervously, going down to Blacklight.

As the reaper picked himself up, looking visibly shaken, Chaos Agent stormed up to him. "What happened?!" he demanded of Blacklight. "You seemed to recognize what was happening. _Where did they go!?_"

Jawbreaker, with Teef's help, picked herself up. They both glanced up at the sky, seeing the hateful gaze of the Storm King looking back down at them. "I don't understand..." Jawbreaker said.

"The Storm King..." Catrina said softly, unwilling to look at the sky and see her master's disappointment and fury, "...is a perfectionist, in his way. When he exterminates a world, he is not satisfied unless every last member of the race is either his food or his ally. The four of them are gone, child. They've escaped him."

Jawbreaker suddenly realized. "...He's gonna make us go after them, isn't he?"

"Dimensional rift?!" Chaos Agent said. Blacklight had not spoken in words, but in a language that only creatures like Chaos Agent could understand. "Then _what dimension are they in?!" _

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Royale Island...

Behind a restaurant…

The world we know…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Gutbomb, Hothouse, Ragsy, and Bash all appeared in midair, landing with a thud near a dumpster. The sudden shock of being transported knocked all of them out. But as they fell unconscious, for some reason they heard Mariachi music playing…

None of them noticed the armored man with the red LED face staring at them in fascination, typing something on a pad before walking away.

Almost an hour later, Gutbomb woke up, groaning as he came to his senses. Wincing in pain from the fall, he picked himself up, looking around… and stared.

Blue. The sky was blue. He yanked his mask off, staring in awe at the sky. "Blue… and…" He hadn't noticed the cold at first, as the world was always cold due to the storm. But surrounding them, the town in a big circle, was acres of ice and snow.

"Snow..." said Hothouse. Gutbomb turned, and saw his comrades coming to their senses. "Snow, and clear sky…" The other Leftovers were all removing their masks, staring in awe at the beauty around them.

Ragsy began to laugh. "Blue… BLUE!" she said staring at the sky. "And white! No gray! No purple!" Laughing wildly, she threw herself into the snow piled near the restaurant, throwing it about happily.

"Unbelievable..." Bash said softly, staring at the clear, empty blue sky in awe. "I can't… It's incredible..."

"The shards..." Hothouse said. "They… They did something to us… transported us..."

Gutbomb nodded. "I'm starting to think so too..." he said, going out from behind the restaurant. "Look, there's houses. No sign of people, but they look untouched… Maybe they have functioning communications equipment inside of them?"

"It's possible," Hothouse said. "I think I can hotwire something from a TV or radio if..."

The sky began to pulse, as Mariachi music started up. All four of the Leftovers suddenly stood up, toy tacos with googly eyes that rained green confetti appearing in their hands as they convulsively did a silly, fist-pumping dance. The Mariachi music stopped, and the toy tacos in their hands vanished.

"...That was odd," Gutbomb said.

"Yeah, no kidding..." Ragsy said.

"Maybe we aren't as safe here as we thought..." Hothouse said.

"GUYS!" Bash said, pointing out to the streets near the restaurant. "Look!" The others did, grabbing their weapons. But when they saw the paper-wrapped objects, the smell hitting them, they dropped their weapons. Bash giggled excitedly. "They rained from the sky during the song!"

"FOOD!" Ragsy shouted. All four of the starving humans bolted out from behind the restaurant, practically falling over themselves as they grabbed the tacos, tearing the wrapping off of them and eagerly chomping them up.

The four of them moaned in bliss as the flavors of spice, juicy, well-cooked meat, melty cheese, and fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and sour cream filled them with each bite. Barely pausing to chew, the four of them ran around the town, eagerly cleaning up the tacos there. Once they ran out of tacos, the Leftovers all collected their gear and went over to the playground near the restaurant, contentedly resting as they savored being full for the first time in ages.

Bash belched. "Oh my God that felt good… Whoo..." he said.

Ragsy belched as well, giggling. "Mmmm, tacos… Never thought I'd have one again..."

Gutbomb chuckled, patting his stomach. "We still need to figure out where we are, but this right now is one of the best moments of our lives."

"Glad to hear it," said a voice. They all whirled, seeing a man in a green shirt and yellow overalls, wearing a mask resembling the googly-eyed taco toy they were holding earlier. He raised his hands up, seeing the intensity of their gaze, and removed his mask, revealing a man with dirty brown hair. "S-Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you. My name is… well, my name is Mike, but I usually go by Guaco, my callsign for the Contest. I'm the mascot for Senor Guaco's Tacos." He pointed to the restaurant. "The Visitor told me you guys fell out of the sky a little bit ago, I wanted to see if you were okay..."

The others relaxed, seeing he was human. "Guaco, my friend, you have no idea how glad we are to see another human..." he said.

Guaco smiled. "You guys look like you've been through a lot," he said. "The door to the restaurant's unlocked, and there's always fresh supplies in it… somehow… I can make you something if you want."

Gutbomb looked to the others, who all nodded. "Sure thing," he said. "We could still eat, I think."

Guaco chuckled. "You sure? You ate those tacos like you hadn't eaten in weeks," he said.

"We haven't," all four of them said. Guaco's eyes widened in shock. "Long story," Gutbomb said. "C'mon in. We'll explain..."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A few minutes later…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The four Leftovers sat each eating from a tray of loaded nachos, piled with beef, cheese, salsa, tomatoes, lettuce, and sour cream. Because they had filled up on tacos from the sky earlier, they weren't tearing into them, but there definitely wouldn't be any nachos left. They had told Guaco about their world, where they came from, and he in turn explained the Battle Royale, and everything else that had happened.

"Tacos raining from the sky every hour, with anything that doesn't get eaten vanishing," Gutbomb said, amused. "Hell, doing a silly dance whenever they appear is a small price to pay."

"Heh. We're biased, 'cause we've been going without food for so long," Bash said.

"...Not to happy that there's a Storm here," Hothouse said.

"But there's no Storm _King," _Ragsy said. "That makes this place a helluva lot better than our world in my opinion."

Guaco shook his head. "I thought my situation was bad… I can't imagine what you've all been through..." he said softly.

"Pray you never do," Gutbomb said. "This place is paradise by comparison to our world."

Guaco nodded. "There's still plenty of time before a Storm Instance begins on the island, and despite no one living there the houses all have running water. If you want to get cleaned up before we head to Home island, you can."

"No one will mind?" Bash asked.

Guaco chuckled. "These places get destroyed all the time in the battles, and restore themselves after. Feel free to do what you want with them," he said. "What will you do now?"

"...I dunno about you guys, but I'm thinking about participating in the Battle Royale," Gutbomb said.

Bash nodded. "Same here."

Guaco blinked. "Wow, really? I mean, you guys don't have Storm Sickness like I do, but I suppose it'd be all right..."

"Seriously?" Hothouse asked. "You'd want to go back into the Storm and fight?"

Bash shrugged. "I was a gamer before all this started. Now I'm a soldier. I don't really have any marketable skills. Plus the contest sounds a lot more fun than fiend fighting every day."

"There's another thing to consider," Gutbomb said. "Fiends have showed up here, along with Cubes." He shook his head. "Still can't believed they named the big one that appeared here..."

"Kevin's pretty much an institution around here," Guaco said. "I hadn't joined yet, but for as much trouble as it caused, apparently everyone still is fond of it. Except Deadfire. That cowboy's a cube hunter, apparently. Pretty much thinks everyone who likes Kevin is nuts."

"Oh, good, a sane person," Hothouse cracked, the others laughing.

Gutbomb chuckled. "What I'm saying is that the Storm King may not have appeared here _yet,_" he said, chilling everyone. "We have a unique opportunity here. We know how the Storm King works, so we can inform this Dr. Vinderman and his people, and they can prepare accordingly. Plus, since this island feels like a locus of Storm energy, we can keep an eye on things. We lost our world. We're just its leftovers, like the King's fiends called us. But we can protect this one."

"...Makes sense, I guess," Hothouse said. "All right, I'm in."

"Same," Ragsy said. "There's been enough death because of the Storm King. If we can prevent it by fighting here, then I'm in."

Gutbomb nodded. "Guaco, thank you for feeding us," he said.

"Hey, no problem," Guaco said. "You guys were hungry."

Bash chuckled. "I know we're rough-looking. But you helped us anyway. Far as I'm concerned, you're our buddy. An honorary member of the Leftovers," he declared, hugging Guaco with one arm.

"Still can't believe we're going with a name the monsters gave us," Ragsy said, amused.

"Why not?" Gutbomb said. "They meant it as an insult. I say we take that name and throw it back in their faces. Show them what it means to fight even the leftovers of humanity."

"Amen, brah!" Bash said, chuckling in his deep, thundering voice.

Guaco nodded. "I may not have been through what you guys have, but I've seen enough of the Storm here to know that I don't want what happened to you to happen to anyone else. I'm with you."

Hothouse nodded, chuckling. "I might as well make in unanimous, then," he said, raising his soda cup. "To the Leftovers."

The others joined him in the toast. "To the Leftovers!" Gutbomb said. "May this world ever stand!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

One month and an apocalypse later…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"..." The Leftovers, the four originals and their newest member, all stood on the edge of a dock near a small lake, looking over their changed world. After the collapse of the Zero Point had reduced the universe to nothingness and then restored it, Royale Island had been changed. The Storm Sickness that had afflicted the contestants in the Battle Royale no longer existed, history itself having been altered.

After a long moment, Guaco shook his head, chuckling, and put his mask back on. "Well… At least things are more stable now," he said. "I'm gonna go explore and see if my restaurant survived somewhere. You guys gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Gutbomb said after a moment. "We're just taking it all in."

"Talk to you back on Home Island, big guy?" Bash said. Guaco nodded, and strolled off. The Leftovers resumed looking over the changed island. And to their amazement, they weren't all that disturbed by it.

"Helluva thing," Hothouse said. "I had my doubts at the end, but it looks like The Visitor's plan worked. Whatever it was."

Gutbomb nodded. "The world feels clearer now. The only Storm Instances are over Royale lsland now," he said.

"And we're still gonna fight in the Battle Royale, right?" Bash said.

Gutbomb nodded. "Things may be more stable, but I still don't want to take any chances. Storm King's followers might find their way here," he said.

Hothouse sat down on the dock, putting his boots into the water. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm gonna relax for a while," he said.

Gutbomb nodded, and looked over the barrel full of fishing poles nearby. "I think we've earned it," he said.

"Good," Ragsy said, setting her mask and weapons down and starting to get undressed. The guys all stared.

"Um..." Bash said, blushing brightly.

"Before the Storm King, I loved to go swimming in the lake near a cabin my family owned. The pool on Home Island is nice, but it's just not the same," Ragsy said, undressing down to her underwear. "Here, we got lakes, rivers, all sorts of natural water. And its clean, even with Slurpy Swamp and Steamy Stacks. I'm going swimming, and y'all can't stop me." She smirked, and dove off of the dock, swimming around the lake.

Gutbomb shook his head, amused. "Screw it," he said, pulling out a fishing pole. "We all deserve a chance to be happy. I say we take it."

"You even know how to fish?" Hothouse asked.

Gutbomb shook his head. "Nope! I'm gonna teach myself, I've decided," he said, Hothouse laughing.

Bash blushed brightly as he watched Ragsy swim around, her scarred, muscular body flowing through the water like she was a part of it. "Um… I can't believe I didn't notice this before… But is it just me, or is Ragsy really hot?" he asked.

"It's amazing what not fighting for your life every day can do to restore your libido," Hothouse said, amused. "Well, not fighting for your life and not dating a toxic woman who was just using you."

Gutbomb frowned a little. "...Still sad over Jawbreaker?" he asked quietly.

Hothouse sighed. "More mad at myself than anything," he said. "Looking back, I could see she was just using me. But I was just so desperate for some sort of happiness..."

Gutbomb nodded "I can understand that," he said.

Hothouse smiled. "I'll be okay, Gutbomb. Don't worry," he said.

Gutbomb patted his friend's shoulder. "I certainly hope so," he said. He attempted to cast out the fishing pole's line… and snagged it on a nearby tree. Bash cackled.

Hothouse snickered. "That's just sad," he said.

Gutbomb pouted. "I'm new at this, lemme alone..."

Hothouse shook his head. "C'mon, I did a little fishing with my Dad when I was younger. I still remember how to do it. Lemme show you."

As Hothouse showed Gutbomb how to properly cast, Bash went back to watching Ragsy swim. He felt a warmth in his chest that it took him a moment to recognize – he was happy. Grinning to himself, he looked up at the clear blue sky. Happiness had been so rare. But now? With in this new world? (Technically the second new world, really.) He felt he could allow himself to be happy.

And that gave him something to hold onto.

_**THE END**_


	10. Food Wars - Part 1

_**Fortnights**_

_**Chapter 10: Food Wars – Part 1**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greasy Grove…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A figure clad in green and red walked through the town, his head covered by a large, cartoony mask of a tomato with a silly, bushy mustache. The masked man quite appropriately known as Tomatohead walked into the little town, frowning underneath his mask as he looked it over. He held an assault rifle in his hand, but he had no ill intent beyond playing the contest going on. Like everyone else there at the time, he was in a Storm Pod, the body currently on the island merely a virtual projection, one that would vanish if he was damaged enough, eliminating him from the current contest. No, he was simply curious. Royale Island was an ever-shifting mystery, but two constants to it were his little 'home.' as it were, Tomato Town, and Greasy Grove, where his rival restaurant was.

Tomatohead liked Tomato Town. It was small, with only a few buildings, but it had the restaurant he represented there. Pete's Pizza Pit. One of the finest Italian restaurants in the world, he felt. It's why he agreed to wear the mascot costume. He liked his job, and missed his co-workers who had fallen in the Storm Instance that brought him into Dr. Vinderman's care.

Greasy Grove was larger, with more homes and businesses, and was also home to his restaurant's primary rival, the Durr Burger.

_God, what a stupid name, _Tomatohead thought as he carefully moved through the town. He glared at the restaurant, with its googly-eyed, dangle-tongued mascot head at the top, and shook his head, refocusing on the game. The current matchup was down to the top twenty five contestants, and it was looking like Greasy Grove would be the final circle. He found an open door and slowly moved in, checking for any traps. He didn't see any signs of a spike panel being set up, so he went inside. He slowly went up the stairs, hearing the sound of gunfire, and found Rust Lord taking potshots with a sniper rifle out a window. He gunned him down, smirking under his mask as Rust Lord vanished in a cloud of white, the weapons, meds, building material and ammo he was carrying spilling out around him. Tomatohead quickly collected it all, changing out his shotgun and assault rifle for the higher ranked versions that Rust Lord was carrying. He quickly drank the shield potion to get his avatar back up to full 'health,' silently grateful he didn't need to take off his mask to do it. After checking through the house, he decided to head outside.

He saw some of the actual soldiers trading shots at each other, engaging in a build war, creating a large tower as they fought. Deciding they were busy, he ran over to the Durr Burger to see if there was any loot left. And possibly destroy the place for fun.

So naturally, because life never lets you have any fun, he found someone there. The last person he wanted to see.

A man wearing the silly mascot head of the Durr Burger, a burger with googly eyes and a silly tongue sticking out. Like him, he was wearing a uniform to go with his mascot head. The yellow and blue clad man noticed him and chuckled, waving him over. "C'mon. I'll make you a burger."

"Found the supplies, eh?" Tomatohead said.

"I was surprised they were fresh," the burger-headed man said, flipping a burger on the grill. "Are they always kept stocked?"

"Yeah, but its some magic thing related to the storm," Tomatohead said, deciding to indulge him, going behind the counter but not dropping his weapon. "Every bit of food is fresh and stays fresh forever, resetting every twenty-four hours. It just can't be taken off the island."

The burger-headed man shook his head. "Shame," he said, pushing some frying onions around on the grill. "There's some good stuff here. Name's Beef Boss by the way."

"Tomatohead. I used to work as a mascot for-" Tomatohead started.

"Pete's Pizza Pit. I recognize that mustache," Beef Boss said, chuckling smugly. "Good pizza. Although I'll take a burger over a pizza anyday."

Tomatohead smirked beneath his mask. "You should try our cheeseburger calzones. They're a universal hit," he said.

"Cheeseburger calzones," Beef Boss said, shaking his head. "Well, your business certain has variety." He turned towards him, and Tomatohead could just _see _the smirk underneath that silly mask. "Even if you are putting superior product in your Italian food."

Tomatohead shook his head. "You gonna start a franchise war now that you're here?" he asked.

"And why not? The horrific trauma that forced me to stay here aside, there's always an opportunity to drum up business for Durr Burger. I was an executive manager at my store before…" He sighed softly. Tomatohead didn't need to see Beef Boss's face to recognize the haunted expression that came over it.

"...Did you manage to save anyone?" Tomatohead asked softly.

"Two grill workers, and this one girl who was a superfan, bought one of our sleepware onesies and slippers and wore them to the store," Beef Boss said. "They aren't joining the games right now, but they said they might once they've had a chance to recover emotionally. I don't really blame them for waiting."

Tomatohead nodded. "You got more than me," he said. "I was running late the day my Storm Instance hit. I ended up meeting a superfan who had our version of the onesie and slippers on the road as she was running from the monsters. She apparently had lost her sister and parents to the Storm… I got her a place on Home Island. I'm not even gonna bother asking her to participate in the games, considering what she's lost. Let her decide on her own..."

Beef Boss nodded. "Sounds fair," he said. He finished cooking the burgers and made one for Tomatohead. He accepted it gratefully. "Here you go," Beef Boss said. "A traditional, basic Durr Burger."

"SUCH a stupid name for a restaurant," Tomatohead said, sticking the burger into his mask. To Beef Boss's surprise, the burger phased through the mask right to Tomatohead's mouth. "Mmm. Good burgers, though."

"...Interesting," Beef Boss said. "We don't need to take our masks off to use consumables?"

Tomatohead nodded. "Yeah. You taking yours off to drink shield potions?"

Beef Boss nodded. "Now that I think about it, someone did mention that to me. I think I was too distracted with getting here and relieving some stress..."

Tomatohead chuckled, taking another bite of his burger. "I know how you feel," he said.

Beef Boss took a bite of his own burger. "Hm. Well, to our new lives here, I suppose," he said, raising his burger in a toast. "And to business."

Tomatohead shook his head. "Does it really matter?" he asked again.

"Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition," Beef Boss said, and again Tomatohead could just see the smirk.

Tomatohead stared at him for a long moment. And then shook his head, chuckling and raising his burger to toast Beef Boss. "Then may the best restaurant win," he said.

"Thank you. I will," Beef Boss teased.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," Tomatohead said.

And then Cuddle Team Leader blew them up with a rocket launcher, both mascots dissolving into white. "Oooh, free burgers!" Cuddle Team Leader said, the pink clad, teddy bear head wearing woman going over to pick up the dropped burgers.

_**THE END**_


End file.
